


reading lights

by cielmelodies



Series: film reels and books [1]
Category: Arashi (Band), Narratage (2017), 先に生まれただけの僕 | Saki ni Umareta Dake no Boku | My High School Business (TV)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, Drabble Collection, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, High School, M/M, Recovery, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, oblivious idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-10-11 04:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 34,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20539814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cielmelodies/pseuds/cielmelodies
Summary: It's this type of moment that he wants to bask in: low lights, low volume, occasional flipping of pages, warmth around him, next to him, always there to drive away any unnecessary thoughts.A series of disjointed but chronological drabbles/oneshots on how two very oblivious men (with terrible sense of boundaries) get together.(Aka, the Narratage x Sakiboku crossover nobody asked for but I wanted to write.)





	1. (0) H

**Author's Note:**

> Narratage details were taken from the movie AND the book, so there will be parts that may seen new or unheard of, likely because I extracted them from the book. I will add notes to that if needed. If explanatory notes are needed, drop me a message on twitter (handle name is my pen name here). 
> 
> Tags that never made it up there + reasons why they apply:  
\- Mental health issues; Hayama has problems. They'll be talked about eventually.  
\- Hayama/Narumi-centric; this fic is literally focused on these two men, and nothing else. Mainly the latter as well, because he is a sad pupper who I must make happy.  
\- Overly verbose Narumi.  
\- Overly, mentally verbose Hayama; i.e. this boy thinks too hard, poor thing.

_End._

The changing lights from the television reflect on the available surfaces of the dark living room, catching onto the little trinkets, numerous book spines and DVD boxes. Next to him, the muted gold yellow glow of a reading lamp flickers only when pages are flipped.

He sighs, out of contentment, and leans his weight into the body of his company. 

A page is flipped, and he feels the mild pressure of a cheek nuzzling against his hair. His focus is not on the movie anymore - he's watched it at least six, seven times before, knows what's going to happen next, but the movie isn't turned on just for entertainment. 

It's this type of moment that he wants to bask in: low lights, low volume, occasional flipping of pages, warmth around him, next to him, always there to drive away any unnecessary thoughts. 

He turns his head inwards to rub his temple against the solid shoulder once, and smiles to himself at the questioning hum the action earns. 

"What's up?" Comes the surprised question. 

He shakes his head once. It's nothing, technically, and so he simply turns back to the movie and says, 

"I love you."


	2. (1) H

_ Spring  _

He gives her the divorce papers on the 6 th of May – at the end of Golden Week. He’s held onto the papers for nearly a month by then – holding onto it and waiting, hoping for a change of heart but finding none after the holidays end. His chest is still heavy, mind laden with never-ending thoughts that refuse to bid goodbye even after numerous glasses of beer.

She refuses to sign them. He talks to her parents, apologizes once more, bows his head and begs for them to free him. To free her. He tried. She doesn't smile as bright any more. Not for him, because of him. And the same is true for him. Things have changed. 

He receives the signed papers the same day he pays the downpayment on his newly rented apartment, halfway across the city from where she lives. He moves in the day after. It is late July by then - in time for the students' summer vacation, a perfect time to leave to find a school closer to his new apartment district and far away from his now ex-wife’s home. He's only been in the school for a year, but he barely feels the additional guilt that is added to his shoulders from feeling no attachment towards his students. 

He is tired, and maybe, a little more than broken. He figures time will mend this broken boat of his. For now, he can only move on. 


	3. (2) H

_ Summer _

"Hayama-sensei. I'm so pleased to welcome you to Kyomeikan High School." It is Kashiwagi who greets him. The man is well-past his fifties, but his handshake is about as firm and excited as it was when Hayama met him several weeks ago, during their interview. Hayama just manages to lift his box of school materials from the trunk of his car when the man bursts in a long conversation, "Our school is so very glad to have you join our staff - Narumi-sensei has been advocating for teachers to have training in student counseling for several months now, and we're extremely lucky to have you here, really."

_ Narumi-sensei?  _ A teacher? Pushing for a more established student mental welfare system? That is rather unexpected - most schools might consider it too expensive or unnecessary, given that the government sends someone to schools once a week. But then again, Kyomeikan High School is a private institution. Hayama’s motivation to take up additional guidance and training to become a qualified counsellor stemmed from similar feelings of insufficiency in the system, and in himself. As a teacher, he could only do so much... 

He bows deeply. "The pleasure is mine. Thank you for allowing me to join you in the middle of the school year as well, Kashiwagi-sensei. I hope I would not pose as an inconvenience to you.”

"No no, not at all. And its Kashiwagi- _ san _ . I don’t teach here, I just handle the administrative matters. Anyway, you're just in time, really. Mashiba-sensei—Well, Shimazu-sensei now, technically, although she runs by her maiden name to avoid confusion between her and her husband, who is actually Shimazu-sensei, you see— is starting maternity leave just as the vacation ends, so we were in need of a social studies teacher.” The man rambles quickly, faster than what Hayama can typically catch, but he nods along anyway. “Well, now, let me just show you to the staff room.”

Kashiwagi helps him grab one of the many paper bags containing his posters as he speaks, and gestures the way with barely any inflection of hesitance or superiority, which Hayama immediately likes. Friendly.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Kashiwagi-san, as the principal, you allow for a married couple to work together? That’s rather unusual.” He asks later, when he is shown to his new workspace within the staff room. There is no one else in the room for the day - unsurprising, as it is in the middle of the summer vacation.

“Principal? Ah, that’s—,” Kashiwagi shakes his head rapidly. “I’m sorry for failing to inform you, Hayama-sensei. I’m not the principal. I’m just the vice-principal, you see.” 

Hayama tilts his head in confusion. 

“I was sent to interview you because Narumi-sensei had his mathematics summer classes! And also because I have a bit more experience on the hiring front, as I’ve said with the administrative matters and such, but Narumi-sensei is the principal of Kyomeikan High.” 

Narumi-sensei? A principal that also teaches? That’s rather… unusual. Hayama stays silent on that front - he will likely be meeting the man sometime soon. If not this summer, then just before school reopens…

The man continues without further prompting, not yet done with his explanation. “In fact, he was planning on greeting you if not for that fact that he got called up to the headquarters this morning for another meeting. He should be back soon, however - “ He jerks as though surprised by something, and digs his hand into his pockets to retrieve his phone. Lowering his glasses, Kashiwagi squints at the screen for a moment, and suddenly breaks out into a smile. 

“Why, would you look at that - Narumi-sensei just messaged me to say that he’ll be back in less than half an hour. Perfect timing, wouldn’t you say?”

Hayama breathes out softly at jovial tone, and manages what he hopes is a serene smile. It’s like his first day of work then, technically, to be meeting the principal so soon. There is no such thing as being ready or not ready, but he sincerely hopes that his employer is a kind person. 


	4. (3) N

The new teacher is a strange one, Narumi thinks. He means this in the nicest way possible, of course. It is impolite to make such judgements, he is aware, especially when he himself may be viewed as a ‘strange one’ as well. It’s not often one meets a principal who is 37 years old (and single, but his relationship status means nothing as long as his work ethics are fine, and they  _ are _ ), and with a salaryman background while doubling as a mathematics teacher for the first year students. 

Most educators (according to Narumi’s experience) would immediately doubt his abilities and credentials (he wouldn’t blame them, he doubts himself too) upon meeting him; Hayama, however, accepts his handshake and introduction without so much as a blink as a response. 

That is not to say that Hayama is slow or apathetic towards matters of education, Narumi realizes fairly quickly. The man has taught for longer than he has, and is quick to accept his request to adopt ‘active learning’ principles into his lesson plans. Upon discussing matters about student welfare, Narumi further learns that the easy-going, quiet personality hides a blunt man who cares greatly for the students. 

“We usually use one of the smaller meeting rooms when the weekly, government-assigned counselors visit the school but—” Narumi trails as he guides Hayama around the empty school, and gestures to one of the vague rooms they always use to privately talk to students. The bespectacled man takes a quick look in the room and hums. 

“Yes, I’d like a room for the new welfare office.” 

Behind him, Kashiwagi-san’s eyes widen as he starts to, likely, imagine the logistics of such a request, but Narumi has already predicted this, and as such, agrees to it with little argument. 

“There’s a decently large storeroom near the staff room and administrative rooms - far enough to give some privacy? It’s just behind that corner…” He leads Hayama out of the meeting room momentarily to point at the turn in the corridor. “I think we can easily find new homes for the current contents of the storeroom, can’t we, Fuku-Kouchou?” 

The use of Kashiwagi’s title is always a foolproof way to get him to agree to things. If there is one thing Narumi is sure he can do, is how to make someone feel good about a decision they  _ haven’t _ made yet. He wasn’t a good salesman for nothing. 

“Y-yes, yes, of course.” 

Too easy, Narumi muses, and perks up when he sees the smallest smile appear on Hayama’s face. Perhaps he has seen through Narumi’s ploy then - a smart man, and also a very attractive one, when he smiles.

“...Can I have a look at it?” Hayama requests quietly in the next beat, and looks hopefully at Narumi. At first glance, his eyes appear tired, like the face of someone who hasn't had a peaceful sleep in a long while; however, there is an unmissed flame that lurks behind the metal frames and long eyelashes that pleases Narumi. 

"By all means." Narumi nods eagerly as he leads the other two. "It is still likely a mess, but nothing a little reorganization can't fix, but I suppose it won't be as good of your previous welfare office."

"My previous 'office' was in fact the social studies preparation room." Hayama replies blithely, appearing amused when Kashiwagi, flummoxed, repeats the last four words in disbelief. “You could say I worked incognito.” The amusement transforms into interest the moment he steps into the storeroom, however. Narumi notices the way his eyes dart between the windows in the far and near side of the door. Lighting perhaps? 

The center of the room had an old teacher's desk covered in piles of old files and unused examination papers, and numerous cabinets, classroom chairs were covered under a thin layer of dust from disuse. Despite the mess, the room was definitely more than large enough to be turned into more than one functional space - one that isn't a subjects preparation room.

Narumi turns to Hayama, "What do you think, Hayama-sensei? Baring the mess, of course." 

"I think it'll suit its purpose quite well. If you don't mind doing some form of redecoration… I'll submit a floor plan and proposal for you to view and approve of, naturally." Hayama returns a hopeful look that has Narumi agreeing almost instantly. Who is he to deny and interfere in a field he is unfamiliar with? Moreover, this will not be the only meeting he will have with Hayama about this matter - in any case, he has full confidence in the man, even if others might call him naive or overly optimistic. If they can turn this arrangement into a permanent one, the school and students can surely benefit, and that is all Narumi wants from this situation. 

...It would be a nice plus as well, for there to be a new teacher that’s close to his age. Not to say that he is lonely, but… 

Well, maybe a bit lonely. 


	5. (4) H

Hayama is pleased to see the room coming together despite his initial concerns about the school administration possibly disagreeing with his proposal to have a proper, welfare office. Even if they did, Hayama would have simply went ahead with Plan B. Thankfully, Narumi seemed to agree with everything - much to perhaps, Kashiwagi’s horror in some aspects, but Hayama did try to make things as convenient as possible for all parties involved - which means that no one has to know what Plan B was.

(To turn the social studies preparation room into his ‘office’ again, of course.)

With less than 3 weeks left to the start of the new semester Hayama has successfully moved the previous contents of the room into their new, respective positions (either shelves, cabinets, or the bin), and has managed to wipe down the room of any remaining dust. The old teachers desks and drawer units have been moved around as well, and in a less than an hour, a truck should be coming to deliver the couch from his old house in Toyama. He’s sold the property, of course, but most of the belongings he had placed in a storage unit until he can find the will to go through them - and the memories associated with them - again. His couch however, has been with him for a very long time, and it is only unfortunate that his new apartment is not large enough to comfortably house it… Not that he lives long in there, anyway.

Moreover, it is easier to convince the administration to accept a free couch with only shipping to pay for, rather than a brand new, potentially uncomfortable couch.

“Hello!”

Hayama turns towards the door at the friendly greeting, and offers Narumi his own polite nod and quiet greeting as he sorts out his lesson materials on the now clean, and re-positioned desk. “Good afternoon, Kouchou-sensei.”

Narumi is, unsurprisingly, clad in his typical dress shirts despite it being the middle of the school vacation; he has however chosen to ditch the suit blazer and has rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. It is the most ‘informal’ he has ever seen of the man, Hayama realizes, and wonders if Narumi ever wears comfortable clothing outside of home. Hayama himself is wearing one of his plain t-shirts, but has brought along a thin jacket that he knows he will be putting on the moment he cools off. It would not do for him to catch a cold so early into the semester.

Narumi lets out a low whistle as he looks around the room. "You've done a lot with the room."

"Kashiwagi-san was extremely helpful in directing me as to where the other things should be placed. Once the room was clear, it was easy to move things around." Hayama explains modestly, and offers the principal a small smile of his own. "Thank you for subscribing to my requests as well, Kouchou-sensei."

"I apologize that I wasn't of much help with the actual cleaning up of the office—"

Hayama shakes his head before Narumi can finish his apology - "That's not necessary. Kashiwagi-san informed me that you had meetings to attend at the company HQ." Meetings related to talk about his proposal in fact, but Hayama doesn't want to cause any awkwardness by letting Narumi know that he knows he is causing some inconvenience for the principal.

Narumi raises his arm to draw Hayama's attention to a plastic bag holding to distinct plastic bento boxes. "Well, I have brought us both some food for lunch, just a gesture of… uh…"

Hayama blinks, then chuckles, sensing the man's struggle to complete his sentence. He understands somewhat - an offering, as new colleagues, or, dare he thinks, friends, as Narumi is close in age to him; or perhaps as a gesture of apology, which is unnecessary. Narumi is far too kind for his own good, but Hayama likes that. Such a trait is rare nowadays, for someone in their age group, no less. He appreciates the thought, and makes it known. "Thank you. I haven't had lunch yet."

"I thought so - I didn't see you leave the room even once all morning! You're also pretty new to this area, I presume? Lived in Toyama yes? There is a place that sells really good bentos nearby, just a few blocks away - the baachan there is really nice and adds extra karaage to the boxes if she knows you're a teacher." Narumi excitedly steps forward to rest the bag on the table, unpacking the bentos and handing one set to Hayama as he explains. Hayama can barely put in a word of thanks as Narumi happily hands him a pair of wooden chopsticks; the next thing he knows, the man has snapped his chopsticks in two and has begun digging into his own bento box, a karaage in his mouth while he eats standing.

Hayama stares, and tilts his head in amusement. It takes Narumi at least several moments to notice that he has not moved to open the proffered bento, nor even set it down on the table, but when Narumi finally does, he looks up with his cheeks half-full, and lets out a confused sound.

Biting his lower lip to suppress a wide smile, Hayama rests the bento on the table, and gently asks, "...How about I grab an extra chair from the next room so we can eat while sitting down, Kouchou-sensei? And maybe, you can tell me about the area around the school."


	6. (5) N

_ Autumn _

There has been an odd buzz around and about the new welfare office, and the teacher that resides in it. Narumi may even say that he is jealous at all the attention Hayama is getting, but he only means it in jest, of course. He has had to deal with the same experience when he first entered the school, and now feels bad that the quiet man has to deal with all the typical new-teacher hoo-hah. 

Well, maybe more than ‘typical’. 

Narumi has had to spend the first five minutes of every class he has with the first years parrying of questions related to Hayama. ‘Is he single? How old is he? Do you know what he looks like without his glasses? What are his hobbies? Is he one of Narumi’s friends and that’s how he got the job?’ - how would he know the answers to these questions, really? Curiosity wins Narumi over after just a few days into the first week, he shamefully admits - after receiving information (read: Kashiwagi informed him) that Hayama has demonstrated great skill in dealing with the students, Narumi cannot help but wish to eavesdrop on Hayama’s first class with 3-A. How on earth does a single man single-handedly stop a torrent of adolescence-fuelled curiosity?

As such, within five minutes of the bell for 4th period Friday, Narumi finds stealthily making his way across the deserted hallways and squatting near the backdoor of the 3-A classroom. If Shimazu-sensei sees him in 3-B, the man thankfully says nothing about his odd presence. 

Raising his head to peek into the classroom just once, Narumi winces at the way the girls are squealing and boys gossiping while Hayama is already in the room, quietly writing something on the board - his name, the subject, an agenda… the location of the welfare office? Narumi ducks his head again when Hayama turns around. The last thing he wants to do is be caught in this odd position by the new teacher. He’ll never be able to properly explain himself. 

“If everyone could settle down please?” Hayama says loudly, once. 

3-A isn’t the most problematic class, no, but the upper years can be a tad bit rowdier than the second and first years. Narumi, again, winces, as the chatter doesn’t stop. 

He waits for several moments, and blinks confusedly when he doesn’t hear Hayama speak up again. Does the man possess the patience of a saint? He takes a peek, and stares flummoxed at the sight of Hayama casually standing next to the teacher’s desk, a serene smile on his face as he rests a hip against the table and  _ waits _ . 

Huh. Narumi has never considered  _ that _ tactic. And despite his initial doubts, the silence does work, to his surprise. If he is stunned by Hayama’s patience, the other students must be too, as they quickly notice the lack thereof speech and quieten down after several minutes, hushing each other. 

Only after the classroom is quiet does Hayama speak while looking down at his watch. “I know you have questions, so I will answer only one before we have to begin the class.” He raises a hand just as the first groans begin. “You are all third years and are taking your exams in less than 6 months. Time is rather important.”

“But, but, Hayama-sensei~ the second years said you gave them ten minutes to ask you questions!”

“Ten minutes, yes, of which, this class took nine to settle down.” Hayama tilts his head. “Since you all seem to be in talking terms with your juniors, I don’t suppose you can’t simply derive your information from them, then?” He smiles once, and Narumi watches in amazement as the girl promptly looks down and blushes. “So, questions... yes, the one at the back?” 

“I’m Enomoto Reiji. We were all wondering if you were friends with Kouchou-sensei before you came here."

Narumi blinks. Why is everyone asking about their relationship?

"We only became acquainted after I joined the school, so no." Hayama answers smoothly. 

"Ehhh? The fact that you're both ikemens are simply coincidental?" One of the girls cry out from the back, and Narumi,  _ again _ , fights the urge to slap his forehead. The students in this school, really. Hayama, to his credit, continue to look amused, possibly already used to this. Narumi makes a mental note to ask Hayama about his previous high school. 

“Now if we’re done, shall we proceed with the lesson?” Hayama obviously expects the wave of protests, and raises a finger to halt the impending unhappiness. “If you remain extremely curious, the door to the new welfare office will always be open after school - as I’ve mentioned in the assembly on Monday, please feel free to drop by the office for a chat whenever you feel like you need help. Or if you simply want to talk… or ask questions. I make no promises that I’ll answer personal questions, but you can try.”

“...You’ll always be there?” A quiet student pipes out from near the door, sounding rather unconvinced. Narumi imagines most students are. If a teacher had told Narumi that they’ll always be around to help students if and whenever they needed help when he was in high school,  _ he _ would have thought them to be liars. 

“Barring lessons and staff meetings, I will.” Hayama promises kindly, an expression Narumi now recognizes to be rather characteristic of Hayama. He can only wonder if the man is capable of anger. “Now, Mashiba-sensei briefed me as to where she left off from last semester, but I would like to review the contents of the last chapter with the class once more before proceeding—” 

Determining that Hayama can more than handle the class just fine, Narumi leaves, impressed. He should take some pointers from him, and maybe pay a visit to his office some time next week.


	7. (6) H

“Haaaaaa—” 

He hears a loud groan, followed by the protesting creak of the couch behind his shelf as a heavy object - or person - rests his weight on it in a single motion. Hayama’s eyebrows furrow, and he leans back in his chair to peek at his sudden, although not necessarily unwelcome visitor. 

“Kouchou-sensei.” He greets with mild amusement, already used to this despite having started teaching here for only a month and a half now. Sometimes he wonders how the school nurse handled having the principal coming by so frequently. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

Narumi makes an inhumane sound as he buries his face into one of the numerous pillows on the couch, and then finally raises his head to look blearily in Hayama’s direction to say, “I’m tired.” 

Hayama chuckles, and promptly turns on the kettle sitting on the cabinet behind him. He must admit, this is one of the reasons why he prefers to be in the student welfare ‘office’ (i.e. the sizeable room several doors away from the staff room that has previously been used as a storeroom) - because it is technically ‘his’ office as school counsellor, and therefore he gets to make himself (and visiting students) as comfortable as he likes. 

(And because it is  _ his  _ office, away from the other staff members, it makes it easier for him to be alone when he needs to be, or to stay overnight when his apartment feels too quiet and too big for one person). 

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” He offers kindly as he opens the bottom drawer next to his desk to pull out a tin of shortbread. They are store bought, of course, as he doesn’t have the time to make his own, and they’ll never taste as good as the ones he received from  _ her _ , but the memory is sufficient. And, they’re always useful to offer to troubled students. 

Or tired principals. 

The sound of the tin being opened is enough to perk the man up, Narumi’s eyes brightening and posture drawing up to a half slouch instead of a full-on melted human position; his hands are already loosening his tie and undoing the first two buttons of his shirt. “Tea, please.”

Hayama fishes out the jar of Creap powder from the same drawer, and waggles it cheerfully in front of Narumi. The odd flush of pleasure that he derives from seeing the excited look in the man’s face is something Hayama is not entirely used to yet - it has been a while since these small things incited a secondhand response in him, but he supposes it was worth it. 

“You got Creap!” Narumi exclaims, already seemingly distracted from his initial misery, and nods eagerly when Hayama transfers two teaspoons worth of the cream-coloured powder into the extra, red-coloured mug Hayama keeps in his office. Sometimes he forgets how Narumi is his superior (employer, to be specific), because the man can act like one of their students - easily consoled by promises of sugar and warm drinks.

It is only after he finishes pouring the hot water into the two mugs (coffee for him, black) and is handing the steeping tea to Narumi does he explain, “after how despondent you looked last time you were here when I told you I never of heard of it, I decided to keep a jar of it here.” 

“Isn’t it great?”

“I’ll stick to black.” Hayama comments dryly, and returns his attention to the papers in front of him. Mashiba-sensei taught the students well before she left, but with the national exams approaching for the third year, he has been giving out more practice assignments for them. More practice for them, more marking for him. “A worthy investment, however. I think the students appreciate having a drink less bitter than mine when they come by.” 

“Have there been many students seeing you?” Narumi suddenly asks, looking worried. Hayama pauses for several moments in thought, pen coming to a halt on the paper before resuming slowly. To gain the students’ trust, he does not share most if not all of the information confided to him to the other teachers nor administrative staff; it is a promise he made to students in their first class with him, but if there are any concerning issues, Hayama has no choice but to involve Narumi and their form teacher.

He doesn’t look up as he answers, “Just a few. The third years are under a lot of pressure, understandably. I’ve informed the students that they may seek refuge in this office if they want to, be it to talk or just to have a cookie.” He answers briefly, not wishing to concern the man unnecessarily. “Rest assured, I’ll inform you if anything pops up.” 

“Of course, I do trust you on that matter. You wouldn’t let anything happen to the students, Hayama-sensei.” Hayama hears the soft cracking of the shortbread as the principal takes a bite of the cookie. “If we want our students to grow up well, I suppose it starts with treating them with the same respect of an adult. And I suppose that means keeping their secrets when they confide in us." 

"Most of them think they're adults already, at their age. They want their independence, but may not know how much more difficult it is once they  _ are  _ independent. It's easier to let them explore a bit now in safer waters before letting them out into the open sea. School can be a refuge - if not the school, then at least someone should be a refuge." 

He stops grading, recognizing that his focus is not quite there today. Maybe he should drink his coffee before it cools. Sipping the still hot drink, his mind blissfully blanks out at the smooth bitterness of his drink. 

"So… following your analogy, each student, or rather, human, is like a boat, the school like a port, and adolescence, a quiet bay of sorts?" 

Hayama hums thoughtfully, and swivels on his chair to properly face Narumi. The man looks too deep in thought to be mocking him, but Hayama knows from his numerous interactions with Narumi that the man is incapable of being condescending, to the point of sincere naivety. That particular trait might frustrate some, but to Hayama, his forthcoming personality is like a breath of fresh air. He doesn’t wish to say this to anyone, but he has found himself better friends with the principal than his other teacher colleagues - perhaps because of Narumi’s proclivity to drop by the room more often than not. It’s no wonder the school nurse banned him completely. The thought makes Hayama chuckle into his coffee. 

Remembering to answer his visitor, Hayama finally nods, and says, “With occasional rainstorms.” He pauses, then adds, “some boats may experience more frequent thunderstorms than others. And then there is the possibility of pirates." 

Narumi lets out a thoughtful sound. “Wouldn’t it be more apt to consider the school a lighthouse then, if we’re to lead them to the right direction?”

“...I’d like to think that lighthouses leads us home. Lighthouses were traditionally used to signal dangerous reefs or rocks to ships returning to port from the open sea, so, to say that a school is a lighthouse is to expect our students to return here frequently. So I would say a lighthouse is someone to go home to. To shine a bright light in our darkest days…” Hayama catches himself and sighs internally at the sudden morose turn of topic. He checks the time - 1745 - and quickly returns to his marking. 

Perhaps tonight would be another late night… 

“Do you have a lighthouse then, Hayama-sensei?” 

He accidentally draws an extra line in his paper, and discretely scratches it off. “I had one.” He murmurs, loud enough to be heard only between the two of them, even though the office door is already closed. “Divorce papers were signed about several months before I started working here, actually.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

The apology is sincere, and Hayama shakes his head. “What’s done is done.” 

“Actually…” Narumi starts sheepishly, “I’m kind of in the same boat too.” 

His tone is deceptively light, but Hayama catches a slight inflection of well-hidden heavy-heartedness that causes him to look up. “Excuse me?” 

“I was engaged last year, actually.” The man confesses, and scratches the back of his head nervously. “We, well, she broke off the engagement before we even started planning the wedding, so... I suppose we’re both in a similar situation.” 

“I…” _ …’m sorry to hear that _ , is what Hayama would have said, but he remembers exactly how much he dislikes hearing the same phrase. "If you want to talk about it, I'm willing to listen."

"Well, there's nothing much to talk about, really. We dated for several years while I was working corporate, then after I became a principal, we had numerous fights, fixed things up, got engaged, and then we started fighting again. I suppose our priorities were different. She didn't understand why I wanted to stay as a principal, I guess. And I didn't understand why she didn't want me to be one." 

"A lot of commitment goes into becoming an educator. Time and thought. Lesson plans, student welfare, examinations, post-school activities…" Hayama crosses his arms and hums in consideration, "I imagine as principal you have to worry about things like school budget as well."

"Exactly! It's a lot better now, but it's not something we can just forget. The school is a school, but if we run out of money…"

"Then there will be no school. I'm aware." He watches the man nibble on another shortbread, and feels the corners of his lips quirk up at the sight. He should stock up on more varieties of snacks. Maybe something healthier too. 

"But anyway, that lighthouse didn't turn out too well." Narumi nods nonchalantly, but his eyes retain their hollowness. Hayama recognizes the emotion as loneliness; it is a feeling he too is familiar with. "I hope your experience was a bit more amicable than mine."

Hayama looks away at the statement. Outside the window, the sky is deep orange, the sun setting earlier and earlier as they approach the end of autumn. The sky is clear today, and the sun looks like a too-bright, lonely circle in the west-facing window, with no clouds to keep it company and mute its harsh glow. If the land were a sea, the evening sun would be like a lighthouse. 

"I'll tell you one day, when we have more time." 


	8. (7) H

A knock sounds on his door, and Hayama looks up briefly to greet his visitor with a hum. He raises an eyebrow when he sees the person at his door, and discreetly checks the time on the clock once. It’s the middle of 5th period, so he supposes his current visitor does have some time to spare. 

“Ayano-san.” He nods toward the sofa in invitation, and reaches back to switch on the kettle. “Would you like some tea or coffee?” 

The school nurse smoothly slips into the couch with a playful, mysterious smile, replying with question with silence, as well as look of consideration. She rests a paper bag next to her hip, which he ignores completely. Hayama knows better than to be tricked by her benevolent charisma - her sharp eyes are searching for nonverbal cues, information, but there is no reason for him to worry. No one looks hard enough. 

“Tea it is.” Hayama says after several moments, and doesn’t look up as he asks, “do you take sugar or milk with your tea?” 

“I’m actually here to thank you, actually - the principal has completely stopped visiting the infirmary.” She leans forward and rests her chin on her hand. “I feel a bit offended that he has abandoned me that quickly, but I suppose you can give him more attention than I can.” 

“He isn’t too bad of a person, you know.” 

“Oh, I know. His straightforwardness is extremely refreshing, but I’m not the best person to help him. He’s a little… lonely, you see. And he comes to me for advice on students, but I’m really just a school nurse.” She defends rather flippantly. Hayama doesn’t miss teasing tone - she likes Narumi too, as a person, but then most of the teachers do, despite their frequent complaints about the changes the principal wishes to initiate within the school system (most of which, Hayama recognizes, is caused by the corporate side of the school). Ayano gestures at his person. “You’re an educator - perhaps you are better at sympathizing with his views than I am.”

"Most of the staff in this school is an educator or otherwise, Ayano-san. Yet it’s quite obvious that most of them do not consider Narumi-sensei a friend, nor a fellow colleague.” Hayama hands her a cup of tea to stop her reply, not finished. He does not look at her as he continues, returning to his papers and feeling very little emotion as he answers, “I understand that of course, he has a career history far different from ours, and that he is still our superior regardless of the discrepancies in teaching experience. Even still, is it correct for us to shun him even though he still tries for the students?”

“Perhaps, ‘shun’ is too harsh a word.” Ayano replies with no form of shame or anger in her words - she’s a third-party in the school politics after all, and Hayama’s jibes are not exactly directed at her. After all, she is one of Narumi’s rare friends in the school. “I ‘d like to think that adults are often as equally inept in making friends as children are, if not worse.” 

Hayama pauses mid-writing, and lets a small smile. “... An unfortunate truth.” It would be hypocritical to disagree, given that he belongs to the more solitary end of the ‘socializing’ spectrum. Ayano raises her cup of tea at him, mimicking a ‘kanpai’ motion, and he laughs into his own coffee. 

“In any case, I’m glad you have Narumi-sensei as a friend, Hayama-sensei.” She reaches into the paperbag to reveal two boxes of tea bags - ones that are evidently  _ not _ cheap, from the packaging, and offers it to Hayama. “A welcome gift, from the staff, excluding Narumi, of course. It’s the type of tea I have stocked in the infirmary, the ones that he likes the most. This should last you maybe two, three months at most. Assuming two people share it at a time.” 

Hayama prefers his coffee, black, but he can appreciate tea.

And he definitely appreciates the gesture.

“Come visit any time, Ayano-san.” He says as she excuses herself.

“You can call me Saori, Hayama-sensei. And I’ll take you up on that offer, if the principal ever gives me the chance to have you.” 


	9. (8) N

Narumi is puzzled.

To be precise, Hayama puzzles him. The man is an enigma packaged in an intelligent and private individual, and although Narumi wouldn’t peg himself to be a nosy person, he still finds himself curious at this man who stays in his office almost  _ all _ the time, outside of classes and staff meetings, and stays as late as he does. He does not know how many times he has caught the light to Hayama’s office turned on as  _ he _ was finally leaving the office, and  _ somehow _ , no one can tell Narumi if they’ve ever seen the new teacher go home.

Except he does, of course. He  _ must _ . 

“Well, from what I understand, he  _ is _ getting along with the other teachers, Narumi-sensei.” Kashiwagi reports as he flicks through his pocket notepad. “Just that he’s rarely in the staff room, that’s all. A very private individual.” 

“But he  _ does _ go home, of course?” 

“Well… that’s not information that I can easily find, Kouchou-sensei. But Hayama-sensei is a mature adult - surely he is able to take care of himself.” The vice-principal reminds him gently, and tucks his notepad back into his inner jacket pocket. He crosses his hands behind him, and waits patiently as Narumi swivels his chair left and right, lips pursed in a pout as he thinks.  _ Hard. _

It’s not that he believes that Hayama is incapable of taking care of himself, obviously not, no. But simply because that is all he hears from the other teachers as well. ‘Is a nice teacher, the students obviously have no complaints with his classes, and enjoys his presence. You’ll never hear him raise his voice at anyone, but he has a sense of humor that you’ll miss if you blink. He’s always in the welfare office if you need to talk, whether or not you’re a teacher or a student.’

After several moments of quiet thinking, Kashiwagi softly calls out, “Kouchou-sensei?”

Narumi drops his hands on his desk, suddenly remembering something, and raises his wide eyes to Kashiwagi. “Do you think he’s overworked?” 

“Excuse me?”

“He’s new here, and he’s basically teaching and grading the entire student body in social studies, with possibly a different lesson plan and teaching style requirement then his old school.  _ And _ , he’s expected to be there for the students  _ and _ staff to talk to whenever. It’s practically a double workload.” Narumi rattles off, counting down the points on his fingers. 

Kashiwagi clears his throat, and asks, “Is there a reason why you are  _ this _ concerned, Narumi-sensei? I, nor the teachers, have noticed any problems with Hayama-sensei’s work.” 

“Well,” Narumi blinks, and coughs into his fist. “I’m just worried.” Because someone has to be, really. Hayama’s nice enough to get him _C_ _ reap _ , of all things, yet the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he doesn’t really know anything about Hayama, or how to return the favour. “He keeps later hours than I do.” 

“Perhaps he does have to get used to the new school, but he  _ is _ a fully-grown man, Narumi-sensei. Not someone you need to watch. I’m sure a nice man like him has a wife or a lovely someone waiting for him at home and capable of taking care of him after work.” 

“He—”  _ doesn’t have a wife _ , Narumi wants to say, but realizes that it must be a secret if Kashiwagi doesn’t know. His shoulders sag. “I suppose so.”

Sometimes he looks lonely. Or maybe Narumi is the lonely one, and Hayama is the only person around who doesn’t mind his presence. 

“But,” Narumi looks up when Kashiwagi sighs, eyes bright with hope as the older man proceeds to clean his glasses with his handkerchief. “I did tell him you wanted to speak with him, so instead of asking others for information, you may find more benefit in talking to Hayama-sensei  _ directly _ to aussage your worries.” 

“You told him I was  _ worried _ ?” He squeaks. It’s not inaccurate, but  _ his image _ \- what would Hayama think of him now? 

“Of course not. I simply told him that you had a lot in your head recently, and Hayama-sensei told me to remind you that his door is always open. He does like that office a lot, doesn’t he? Also, he offered me a cookie from his desk drawer. It tasted delightful - perhaps you could ask him for the recipe, or if store-bought, where he gets them from?”

“ _ Excuse me? _ ” 

At least Kashiwagi has the decency to look mildly embarrassed by his request. “Pretend I didn’t say anything.”


	10. (9) H

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: This was fun to write (I'm mean).   
A/N 2: In the book, it is revealed that Hayama has 潰瘍性大腸炎 (ulcerative colitis), which is a chronic condition. This is what is meant by 'relapse', in this chapter.   
A/N 3: Yes, Hayama has problems. (Don't we all.)

_ Winter. _

It’s been getting a bit better. That is, dealing with his problems. 

Being in a new school helps - far away from what he is used to, far away from Tokyo, from Toyama, and being busy with the new students, new teaching styles (‘Active learning’ - now that he can get into) to plan, new colleagues, all act as effective distractions. It helps that he has a double workload, being a teacher and the school counselor simultaneously (although he’d do the latter job anytime, anywhere, if needed).

Perhaps not the healthiest of distractions. But effective. 

The boxes in his apartment are still unpacked. Perhaps one day he’ll have the motivation to face his memories, his past, but for now, he can live in the present and let things simply… be. 

(One day he’ll work up the courage to call his mother and inform her of the changes in his life, but not yet.)

He is still getting enough sleep, however, and taking care of himself. Three meals a day (sometimes), an average of six sleeping hours per day (baring nightmares), keeping it to two (sometimes four) coffee cups a day, and taking a rest when he needs it (this is a lie he tells himself), filling his prescription (but only after a relapse over the New Year’s). He’s functioning. He has a routine. All is fine. 

Amongst all that is ‘fine’, there is all that is ‘good’ too. It’s been four months since he joined Kyomeikan High, and he has made decent friends with most of his new colleagues. Shimazu-sensei, in particular, he gets along very well, with their fondness of foreign language movies (him Spanish, Shimazu-sensei, English), and similar nature (calm and never too prying). He has met Mrs Shimazu as well (i.e. Mashiba-sensei), and was glad to see her enjoying her new motherhood, yet still thinking about her old students. Ayano-san - or Saori-san, in private - sharing tea with him when he has a spot of time. 

And then there is Narumi, who drops by the welfare room every other day to talk to him. Narumi, who makes him feel more normal when he needs the distraction, who doesn’t say a word besides smiles kindly as he leaves when a student knocks on the door to speak to Hayama. 

The frequency of which he thinks about his past dwindles into the occasional bad days. The cold usually makes him remember less - it reminds him less of the searing heat of the flames, a chilling reality that reminds him that he is alive and that he can feel the cold. 

He forgets about the rarer triggers. 

Hayama isn't in class when it happens - thankfully - as it is past mid-afternoon and most students are either already conducting their club activities or already heading home. The wail of fire truck sirens as the vehicle speeds across the road directly opposite their school. The classic doppler effect means the wailing of the sirens twist into different frequencies as it moves further away from the school, but a cool, penetrating silence falls over his mind even before the truck should obtain a sizeable distance between his office and his school. 

_ His house is burning. _

_ His wife tried to burn his house down with his mother inside.  _

He clambers to his feet from his chair, only to fall to his knees the next second, unable to find the energy in his legs. His knees creak in protest as they meet the cold tiles, but that is the last thing in Hayama’s mind as he half-scrambles, half-crawls to the window and grasps at the window sill. His mind is a panicked mess, fingers uncoordinated as they push up the window blinds. He expects to see smoke from here - smoke billowing from the direction of his home, not too far from the school—

Except there is none, and the view from the window is far different from that in the social studies preparation room in Toyama. This is not Toyama, this is Tokyo, and he is  _ supposed _ to have left everything behind him. Yet the shame and guilt reemerges as a wave of nausea, the sirens continuing to ring faintly in the back of his mind like an incessant fly. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into the empty room, and swallows hard once. 

It’s his fault for not protecting her feelings. His fault, for not realizing the growing rift between Miyuki and his mother. There should have been signs - yet he didn’t see them, failed to take notice of the person he was supposed to protect, hurt them, ruined his marriage. 

And he keeps on making the same mistake too. He should have  _ seen  _ it coming - the signs, they should have been visible to him-

“Hayama-sensei~ Did you hear the sirens? Apparently there was a kitchen fire from one of the restaurants from the main street— Eh, Hayama-sensei?” Narumi’s voice sounds equally faint as the siren, and if not for the fact that he can feel the following hasty footsteps as vibrations on the ground beneath his body, he would have thought he dreamt it completely. 

Oh how he wishes his entire life is a dream.

“Hayama-sensei?”

Hayama clamps his mouth with a hand before a tortured sound can escape him - he doesn’t someone to see him like this, especially not Narumi, or any of his students or colleagues. His breaths leaves him in short, rapid puffs of air, but his head feels oddly blank, heady from an apparent lack of oxygen. He recognizes the signs, knows that he needs to slow down his breathing before he passes out but he is  _ ashamed _ \- to be like this, to be seen like this, and to have reason to have so much guilt. What if Narumi finds out the reason for his guilt - will he be disgusted? 

Someone kneels in front of him - he knows it is Narumi, but isn’t sure how well he can convince himself of it, between the way the room started to spin and the repeating thoughts in his head. Hayama wishes he can say to the man to leave him alone, but then he would be lying. 

“Hayama-sensei - are you alright? Are you feeling sick?” Narumi’s hand grabs his shoulder, and the spinning slows; Hayama shakes his head. With someone holding him, he can feel himself trembling, but Hayama makes no motion to move, his legs heavy beneath him. It always takes him awhile to remember how to  _ be _ human again. 

“Does that head shake mean ‘no’ to the being alright, or for feeling sick?” Comes the surprisingly patient question. When Hayama doesn’t answer, Narumi follows up with a slow squeeze of his shoulder, and repeats, “Hayama-sensei? I’m not a doctor, as you know, but you look like you’re just at the brink of hyperventilating and you really shouldn’t cover your mouth as tightly as that.” 

The man can get really rambly at times, Hayama thinks faintly, and allows Narumi to carefully pry his hand away from his mouth. He noisily gasps for air immediately, and his chest smarts at him for giving it enough oxygen finally. He is waiting for Narumi to get angry and leave now - or perhaps tell him he is unfit to be a teacher, having a panic attack in school; both scenarios are plausible and terrifying, yet Narumi shows zero signs of disgust. He looks genuinely concerned. 

...Odd.

A warm hand rubs his back, a rhythmic motion that is easy to focus onto. Hayama latches onto the feeling almost instantly. 

"That's better, isn't it? How about we move to the couch? The floor is cold and neither of us are as young as we used to be. Do you even turn on the heater, Hayama-sensei? It's literally the coldest time of the year." Narumi speaks as he always does so, as if the situation is normal, but between the two of them, this is obviously not normal. Without waiting for a response, Narumi sidles right next to him and shifts his hand from Hayama's shoulder to under his arm, then winds it behind across his back. The proximity stuns Hayama into silence, but he moves when Narumi hefts him up. 

"There we go. Just a couple of steps to the couch." 

Hayama's legs feel strange beneath him, but they walk when he tells them to; or rather, when Narumi tells him to. Everything about this experience is strange - Having someone half-drag him to the couch and cover his shoulders with the wool blanket permanently draped across the arm of the couch. Hayama typically feeds himself the darkest brew of coffee as soon as he can manage pouring the kettle. Instead, his blank eyes follow the footsteps of Narumi as the man patters about his office and dumps a heapful of Creap powder and two sugar cubes into a mug of steeping tea - and then confusingly blink at Narumi again, when Narumi presses the warm mug into his hands. 

“I don’t dri—” he starts, but stops when he realizes how hoarse he sounds. He tries again, “I don’t drink things this sweet.” 

Narumi only raises an eyebrow from where he is leaning against Hayama’s desk, a frown decorating his face while he crosses his arms across his chest, and gestures to the mug of sweetened,  _ creamy _ tea with a nod. “You will now. The sugar will be good for you.”

Maybe Narumi is angry with him, and this is his punishment. Hayama gazes warily at the still steaming drink, then at the principal.

“Go on.” Narumi insists. 

Hayama brings up the mug to his lips with both hands, the liquid splashing minutely within the brim of the cup from the faint trembling of his hands. He makes a surprised sound at the first sip - it isn’t as sweet as he thought it would be, and the tea is thick enough for him to taste even beyond the creamer and sugar. His hand steadies after the second sip; he feels more human after he finishes half of the drink. 

Narumi is still watching him. 

Hayama feels a headache coming on. He is not looking forward to the subsequent conversation. He drags the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“I’ll turn up the heater.” Narumi mumbles as he reaches for the remote near Hayama’s desk. He raises the temperature thrice - Hayama usually sets the temperature to 25, and on low, never higher - before returning to his previous position. Hayama takes the lack of conversation to be a bad sign. 

Mind finally clear, Hayama rests the nearly empty cup on the table and ducks his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“What? What are you apologizing for?” Narumi asks confusedly. 

Hayama stares at him in return. Is it not obvious? After several moments of silence, Hayama realizes Narumi is expecting an answer from him, and he hesitates. 

What exactly is he apologizing for, that is a good question. For making Narumi catch him in that state? For having a panic attack in school, in possible view of the students? 

“Being found in a compromised state while at work?” He tries, and internally winces at Narumi’s deepening frown. 

“That’s hardly your fault.” Narumi reasons, sounding frustrated (with Hayama?). “Would you blame someone for having a panic attack?”

“...No.” 

“Then why are you apologizing?” 

Unsure of how to answer, Hayama blinks owlishly at Narumi, and tries, “Because you’re angry.” 

“I’m not angry. I’m worried.” Narumi corrects immediately. “ergo, you should not be apologizing.” 

“But—” 

“I refuse an apology, Hayama-sensei. Nothing happened here that warrants one. No harm done to anybody, nobody saw anything besides me, and you better not be apologizing because it was me that found you.” Narumi pauses for a breath, and squints. “You aren’t, are you?” 

The action causes Hayama to smile, albeit tiredly. This feels more like Narumi. Just a touch verbose. “I’m not.” He lies smoothly, and shuffles to make space on the couch. “Do you want to sit? I think I’m going to get tired of having to look up at you.”

“You have to look up to me. I’m the principal.” Narumi protests without heat, but plants himself next to Hayama with little complaint. He gazes at Hayama with a watchful eye for a few seconds. “Are you feeling better now? You’re looking less peaky.” 

“I’m fine.” Funny how he uses the word ‘fine’, even though he knows that the word ‘fine’ can be often used to conceal. He is, obviously, not as ‘fine’ as he says he is - even Narumi can determine that, but he is better than he was previously. The shame Hayama typically expects after an attack isn’t there, however; it’s hard to feel embarrassed when someone tells him it’s okay. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Narumi asks after a moment of awkward silence. “I mean, it’s okay for you to say no. You’re probably not used to people asking that, since you’re the school counselor and all, but, as you usually tell me, it helps to talk about it, no?” 

“Maybe.” Hayama answers vaguely, knowing very much, again, that Narumi asked two questions and Hayama only gave one response. He’s not very good at telling the truth; he’s better at helping people, less with others helping him, but Narumi looks eager to help - Narumi is kind. He tries again quietly, “Okay.” 

“Where do you want to start?” 

Hayama looks up at the question, recognizing it as the first line he always uses with students who come to him but don’t know how to vent their frustrations. Narumi has never been in the same room when it happens, of course, but the principal has only once asked Hayama about how he talks to someone who is obviously upset or frustrated. He vividly remembers that conversation - Hayama broke out in laughter for the first time in a long while after Narumi confessed to upsetting his ex-fiancee by failing to sense her insecurity about their relationship and forgetting about getting a ring. 

_ “It’s not my fault!”  _

_ “No, no, of course it’s not. You both obviously needed to talk it out like normal, functioning adults.”  _

_ “We  _ are _ normal, functioning adults.” _

_ “...Well… you both aren’t very good at talking to each other.” _

Hayama leans back against the couch and closes his eyes. For something he thinks about often, putting his thoughts in verbal terms is much harder than expected. “It was the sirens.” 

“That triggered the panic attack?” Narumi clarifies quietly. 

“...did I ever tell you why I got divorced?” The question is rhetoric - Hayama has never told anyone. 

“I don’t think so, no.”

Hayama licks his suddenly dry lips. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time.”


	11. (10) H

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This point marks the start of many sick!fics. I was in the mood for fluff. Hayamin beckons fluff. Therefore, sickfics for the next uh UH... you'll see.

_ Summer. _

Hayama is prepared by the time the principal comes to the welfare room, with water boiled in the kettle and a cup of instant miso soup waiting on the cabinet next to the kettle when the door opens.  He has been waiting for about 2 hours now, since the end of staff meeting, but knows that Narumi had a meeting with executives from the headquarters immediately after about pushing for an affiliation with an overseas high school that is under a sister company. 

“How did the meeting go?” He asks as a greeting, and hums consolingly when he hears a  _ thump _ of body meeting furniture, then a groan. 

“I don’t feel very well.” Narumi answers eventually, after stretching himself out haphazardly across the couch. Hayama lets out a sympathetic sound - he knows, after seeing the man during the staff meeting. The teachers were all sympathetic enough to keep the complaints to a minimum, and the first years that had Social Studies with him after their lunch break shared their worries about how poorly and lifeless their principal was during their Mathematics class. 3 months in and the new students were already so attached with Narumi - if only the man knew. 

“Your first years were telling me, yes.” Hayama confirms, and starts to pour the kettle. “The thermometer is on the table. Did you have lunch?” 

“The  _ first years _ ? The first years could tell?” Narumi groans. Hayama hears the telltale beep of the thermometer and waits for the answer to his question. After a pause, Narumi sheepishly answers, “No. I didn’t have time for lunch. I don’t suppose you could spare me a biscuit?” 

Hayama clicks his tongue. “I can do you better than a biscuit.” He hears a beeping. “What does the thermometer say?”

“...37.5.” comes the sullen reply - the man doesn’t do ‘sick’ very well, Hayama can tell. “What’s better than a biscuit?” 

“Congratulations, you’ve caught a cold in the middle of summer.” He hands completed miso to Narumi, and nicks the thermometer from the table to make sure the man isn’t downplaying his temperature. “Soup. Shall I drop by the staffroom to ask Kinugawa-sensei to take your class with 1-C tomorrow? She’s probably just done with supervising Kyudo practice.” 

“I'll be fine by tomor—” Narumi stops mid-sentence, and Hayama rescues the cup-miso soup from his hands just in time for Narumi to sneeze loudly. He sniffs once, and gropes at his pockets for a handkerchief, then noisily blows his nose. “—tomorrow.” 

“Yes, I’m sure you will be.” Hayama dryly says as he returns the soup to Narumi's hands. “I’ll just drop by the staffroom then. You’re just having them discuss their assignment’s answers and then chapter review tomorrow, yes?” 

The half-bleary look Narumi casts at him would be considered cute if not for the fact that the man looks half-ready to pass out. Hayama finds himself softening at how ragged the man looks, and internally catches himself and the surprising emotion that has bloomed in his chest.These feelings of fondness he keeps secreted within himself - one day he’ll figure out a time to understand what they are; for now, he bends down momentarily to press the back of his hand against Narumi’s forehead, then pats his cheek lightly. "But—

“I’m sure she can manage. Kinugawa-sensei  _ is _ teaching the second and third years, you know.” 

“You know my lesson plan.” Narumi says dazedly. 

“You were constructing it in this very room during the last two week of the spring holidays.” Hayama explains patiently, and tilts his head in thought. “Your materials would be in your office, yes?” 

“Left it on the table.” Narumi sniffs once, twice, then buries his face into the pillow. “Why is it cold in here?” 

“I turned off the air-conditioning for your sake.” Frowning, Hayama grabs the folded blanket from the table and gently drapes it across Narumi’s curled up body. Perhaps Narumi is feeling more poorly than Hayama expected - the man is quite incapable of taking care of himself at times, he thinks as he sighs. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. You’ll be okay by yourself, I imagine?” 

“No.” Comes the pitiful moan, and Hayama lets out another sigh, although more amused than necessary. An eye peeks up to look at him, then swivels down petulantly once Narumi realizes Hayama is staring at him directly with a raised eyebrow. “Go ahead, Before Kinugawa-sensei leaves for the day. She has to pick up her grandchildren from the daycare in less than an hour.” Narumi mumbles into the pillow, waving him off dramatically with a sweep of his hand.

Sometimes it’s hard for Hayama to believe that they’re nearly of the same age. Instead, he leans down to stroke Narumi’s head -  _ his employer’s head!  _ But Narumi doesn’t care if it’s him doing it, Hayama thinks - and remarks teasingly, “are you sure you’re older than me?” 

The reply comes out half-garbled from the cushion. “I’m your boss!” 

Hayama ignores the little voice in his head that tells him that that’s not all to their frequent, if not near daily parley. They’re at the very least, friends. Hayama hasn’t had those in a long while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Kinugawa-sensei - I just created an OC to take over 2nd and 3rd year Maths because Narumi can't possibly teach all of them LOL he's busy enough.


	12. (11) N

Three chimes of his doorbell is what rouses Narumi from his half-asleep state. Most people begin by checking the peephole to see who their unexpected visitor is, but in Narumi’s feverish state, he clumsily undoes the door bolt and opens the door with barely any thought of personal safety. Then squints at his visitor. “What are you doing here?” He rasps. 

Hayama raises the plastic bag he is holding in his hand, as if that explains his presence at 8pm in the evening; Narumi continues to squint. His head hurts a little, he should probably go back to sleep now. As if sensing that he will not be deriving any form of logical answer from Narumi, Hayama shakes his head and lets himself into the house with barely a greeting besides a ‘sorry to intrude’. After which, he drops the plastic bag into the ground and grasps Narumi’s shoulders with both hands, eyes raking across his form - his very sweaty, feverish and not so steady form - once before turning him manually by the shoulders. 

“Did you fall asleep on the sofa?” Hayama asks with a dangerous inflection to his voice as they pass the living area to Narumi’s bedroom. Narumi doesn’t bother to verbally respond - it must be rather obvious, given how haphazardly distributed the pillows are. 

He simply replies, “I asked you a question first.” And pouts, completely unsure why the man was here in the first place, and why or how he knows his address. He inhales noisily through his nose, and chokes at the sensation of cold liquid trickling down the back of his nose. Hayama wordlessly hands him a tissue after sitting him down on his bed. “How do you know my address?” 

“I dropped you off here 2 hours ago." 

"Oh." Oh, indeed - he barely remembers that part. He was dozing off in Hayama's couch in his office, then… he changed into his sleep clothes and fell asleep in his living room…? "I can't quite recall…"

"Of course not." Comes the dry reply. "Sleep in bed properly. I'll make you some dinner." 

"Haven't grocery shopped in a while." Narumi falls back against his pillows and buries his face into the cool linens. He must be running a fever. His head feels foggy. A cool hand presses against his forehead once - and the touch feels extremely good - before a blanket is tossed over his form, and he hears a telltale beep of the air-conditioning being switched on. "Haven't had time."

"That's why I brought groceries with me." Hayama explains gently. Narumi opens his eyes momentarily to blink owlishly at the man. It's been a while since he's had someone take care of him like this. It's not unexpected from Hayama though - Hayama is nice, kind, he thinks deliriously. He also looks worried. That's nice too, having someone be worried about him. What a nice friend. "You're thinking too hard. Go to sleep."

"Can't think hard. I think I have a fever." Narumi mumbles half incomprehensibly. Hayama is stroking his hair now - he did that too, in the office. Somewhere in the back of Narumi's mind, he feels like he should interpret the action is unusual, but the thought doesn't really connect; Hayama is just a nice person, he thinks. That's it. Narumi doesn’t mind either. They’re friends after all, and some people show exhibit that affection differently. 

Perhaps he dozes off, or maybe he zones out in some state of feverish limbo, but the next thing he knows, he is being jostled as his pillows are fluffed behind him and strong arms reach around him to heft him into a sitting position. 

“You’re still here.” He says. 

Hayama raises an eyebrow as he perches himself stiffly at the edge of Narumi’s mattress, a bowl held in a hand and a thermometer in another. He wordlessly sticks the device beneath Narumi’s arm as he answers patiently, “Yes. I said I was going to make you dinner. You haven’t take anything either, I imagine?” 

Narumi thinks hard (as hard as he can), and shakes his head after a while. Everything between dozing off in Hayama’s office and him opening the door to his apartment is blank in his head. Not very adult-like, Narumi realizes, and internally cringes, but he receives no form of admonishment from Hayama where he might have from Satoko (she meant well, he knows) and wordlessly hands him a bowl of porridge and accompanying spoon. He stares at the bowl - it’s one of his nicer bowls that he got from his mother when he first moved into his own apartment; a glazed ceramic bowl that retains heat well and feels perfectly heavy in his hand. He hasn’t seen it in a while, but the sight of it acts as a reminder for him to call his mother soon to check on how she is. 

“Eat.” Hayama says mildly as he retrieves the thermometer, taking a brief glance at the reading before resting it on the dresser. Narumi obediently raises the spoon to his mouth and pauses briefly to blow. As soon as he takes the first swallow, Hayama gets up with a brief pat to Narumi’s shoulder. “I’ll fetch you a glass of water. Where do you keep your cold medicine?”

“Bathroom cabinet.” He answers automatically, then gestures to the porridge with his spoon with as much excitement someone sick can possibly muster. “This is really good.” 

“Good. I’ve left you enough to last you another meal or two. Make sure you finish it.” 

Narumi watches Hayama’s retreating back with his head tilted in consideration, and spoons porridge into his mouth as he thinks (now with a clearer mind) about how odd  _ Hayama _ must feel, to be taking care of him. Narumi feels bad initially, but swallows the feeling down with his porridge. When Hayama returns with the promised glass of water and pill bottle in his hand and nods at the sight of the half-empty bowl, a warm feeling stirs within him once more. 

He clears his throat. “I should pay you for the grocer—” 

“That is not necessary.” Hayama finishes for him. “Finish your dinner, drink your medicine, and go to sleep, Kouchou-sensei.”

“Are you sur—” 

“Very.” 

Narumi obediently does as he is told with no notable sourness, and decides that the easiest way to repay Hayama is by offering him a quiet “Thank you” - something which he realizes, he has yet to say since the man came by. Hayama answers him with his signature smiles - the more wistful ones - leaving Narumi to wonder what’s going on his mind right now. The man’s an enigma; but unfortunately, an enigma that his brain is quite unable to crack into immediately. He, however, makes the conclusion that Hayama must have had someone take good care of him before; and it should explain perfectly why the man is good at… well,  _ this _ . 

He lets Hayama know about the conclusion he has made (albeit maybe the conclusion is a semi-delirious one), and then watches as Hayama’s eyes grow sadder behind his spectacles. 

Or maybe he has said something wrong.


	13. (12) H

He finds himself in an odd place today - Ginza station, of all places, waiting outside the station gantries of Exit 3A. He holds an umbrella up with one hand, and looks at his watch with the other. The hot summer days have become increasingly wet recently, with rain clouds brought in by typhoons hitting the western end of Honshu, as they always do. Unfortunately, the relief is only temporary. Hayama knows that as soon as the rain lets up, the humidity will return.

As to his odd location, it has to do with Narumi deciding to ‘repay’ him for taking care of him a month ago. Hayama has denied him multiple times, citing that a repayment is unnecessary (because it  _ is _ unnecessary), but the principal has gone away on his own looking up small theatres within Tokyo, leaving Hayama with little choice but to go along with the man’s plans. Perhaps the problem is that Hayama had no plans for Obon - which is expected, given that he has no family to visit - and apparently, neither does Narumi.

Which thereby leaves the two of them, (conveniently, according to Narumi), free for Narumi to treat him to dinner and maybe a nice night out. 

(Hayama mildly regrets mentioning to the man about why his old past time of visiting movie theatres in Toyama. It’s not that he doesn’t  _ mind _ Narumi’s company, but because the act of going to a theatre is bound to bring back memories. It has been over a year since he left his wife, two years since he moved from Toyama, and even then…) 

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Hayama-sensei!” Narumi suddenly calls out to Hayama as he exits the station gantry, expression apologetic. Hayama checks his watch again - Narumi is not late; Hayama simply arrived too early. “I mean, Hayama-san.” He corrects himself, and shakes his head to flick water from his hair. 

“I think we’ve established that you don’t have to be as formal with me. You can call me Takashi outside of work.” Hayama says, then frowns disapprovingly. “Why is your hair wet?” Retrieving his handkerchief from his bag, he reaches up to quickly wipe at moisture around Narumi’s neck and hair. “You literally just caught a cold a month ago.” 

“It started to rain on my way to the station from home. Turns out I forgot to bring an umbrella.” Narumi confesses sheepishly. He peeks out of the station exit and whistles at the sight of rain. “Well, it doesn’t look too bad and the theatre isn’t too far from here anyway—” 

Hayama opens his umbrella and exhales noisily in exasperation. He looks expectantly at Narumi, and then gestures to the open space next to him.  _ This man, really. _ Narumi makes it difficult for Hayama to think about other, unnecessary things. “Don’t be ridiculous. This umbrella will be large enough for the both of us.” 

And almost immediately, Narumi beams, joining Hayama under the small space and grabbing Hayama’s hand from where he is holding the umbrella handle. “Let me hold the umbrella then.” 

Hayama lets him.

“I don’t usually watch the movies that you do, so I hope that the theatre has something you might like. They seem to play a lot of different types of movies…” Narumi says a little later, when they are out walking in the rain. If they earn several odd glances from being two men sharing an umbrella, Hayama does not take notice of it. 

“I’m sure I wouldn’t mind whatever movie is playing.” He reassures Narumi as he commits the directions to the theatre to his memory. Narumi is effortlessly leading the way, as if he’s been to the theatre before, but Hayama knows from their conversation, and the way Narumi’s eyes darts to count the number of buildings they are passing that it is his first time too. “You don’t have to do this, you know.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Come to the movies with me. There’s a significant chance it might bore you.”

“That’s okay.” Narumi comments distractedly, looking around for some form of directions, perhaps. “Ah, it’s that way, I see.” 

“Narumi-san…” Hayama sighs, but smiles anyway at Narumi’s nonchalance. “Treating me for a meal is quite enough—”’

“I’m interested in you.” Narumi says as a response, unfocused in their conversation (obviously occupied with finding the way). “Like, what your hobbies are, for example. It’s a thing that friends do. And we’re both bored with nothing much to do during Obon, so doing something new with good company is more than fine.” 

Hayama hums, and teases gently, “I’m good company?” 

“Oh, a lot better than what I’m used to, I’d say. Ah, it’s over here, yes. Yuzawa Movie Complex. It’s smaller than the typical theatres, aren’t they? But they play a lot more movies… There are movies here from the 1980s!” 

“Narumi-san.” 

“What movie would you like to watch then?” 

“Narumi-san.” Hayama repeats once more, amused. This time, Narumi jumps a bit, as though finally cognizant of Hayama trying to speak to him, and lets out a quick apology that Hayama waves off. He’s used to this already. “I was going to say, after today, why not we do something you like to do as well, after this or another day? Make it fair?” 

Narumi tilts his head in confusion. His damp fringe follows limply to the side with the movement, and Hayama finds himself, oddly enough, distracted by the small movement. “Fair?” 

“You’re interested in my hobbies, you said. It’s fair for me to be interested in yours too, no?” Hayama carefully suggests, and watches as Narumi’s eyes brighten as he nods vigorously. He looks up momentarily, as though in thought, but then almost immediately whips out his phone from his pocket and types something quickly before showing the screen to Hayama. 

The phone screen, opened to an internet browser, shows the search results to the name of a bookstore-slash-cafe several stations away from Ginza. Of course - Narumi has confessed that if he has any type of non-work hobby, it would have to be reading books, and Hayama has noticed that as well from their interactions. Outside of work topics, Narumi often reverts to topic about food, travel, or books that he has recently read, a trend that is impossible unless one gives up while the man is still in his school-related diatribe.

“They have excellent pie.” Narumi says, as if that explains everything, before hurriedly adding, “and an excellent non-fiction book collection. Dinner? Pie will be on me.” 

In his defense, there is no reason for him to say no. Hayama barely tilts his head in agreement, and watches in silence as the smile blossoms on Narumi's face, the sight more than enough to convince Hayama that he will not regret his choice. He rarely does anyway, he finds, if it is a choice that is related to Narumi.


	14. (13) N

_ Autumn. _

It’s not that he doesn’t care about Hayama or is  _ dense _ enough to not notice what was going on. He obviously had plans to talk to Hayama at some point of time, but between the amount of  _ paperwork _ he had to handle after the incident, his typical visits to the welfare office had to be postponed until he finish all of his work.

He isn’t avoiding the man or being intentionally obtuse about Hayama, either, contrary to the opinion of perhaps half the student and staff population. He has been  _ busy _ . But after the eighth student comes by his office that Friday afternoon - technically the 10th person to visit his office in the last two days, if one includes the school nurse and of all people, Gouhara-sensei in that list, Narumi knows that he will be paying a visit to Hayama that evening. 

(Yes, evening. After more than a year, it is apparent to  _ everyone _ that they are the resident workaholics of the school.)

But not before he finishes his report to send to HQ. A quick check of his desk clock confirms that Narumi has about another hour or so before he should pop over to Hayama’s office; Narumi has noticed that Hayama’s office door has been closed during the afternoon after class for most of the week, a sign that he has a visitor in his office. Such is expected, of course - after what happened two, three weeks ago, Narumi expects that many students would still be in shock.

In retrospect, everything could have gone a lot worse if Hayama hadn’t intervened when he could, but nevertheless, the incident (or near-incident) has left much of staff in a bind. Hence, Narumi’s current stack of paperwork. His desire to complete everything  _ today _ however, seems unlikely to happen with all the interruptions he has had all day. And speaking of the devil…

Narumi swallows a groan as he hears a series of knocks on his door, and decidedly chooses to close his laptop. He’ll just work on this over the weekend. 

“Come in.” 

The wooden creaks open slowly at his call, a male student slipping quietly - shyly - into the room and closing the door at Narumi’s gesture. Narumi knows the kid from his mathematics classes - Nakahara Atsushi-kun from Class 1-C, in track and field club, is average in math… and also the best friend of the student involved in said incident. Narumi’s expression softens, whatever residual (general) irritation he has disappearing as he beckons Nakahara forward with a wave. 

“Nakahara-kun, please have a seat. Would you like to have something to drink?”

“No thank you. I just came from Hayama-sensei’s office so…” Nakahara answers hesitantly as he settles down in one of the chairs Narumi reserves for visitors. His posture is awkward and uncomfortable, back straight and fists resting on his knees like someone who has been caught doing something wrong; Narumi instantly feels inclined to rectify the 16-year-old. 

He moves to join Nakahara, taking a seat opposite to the young man while stirring his mug of luke-warm tea. “No need to be so tense. You haven’t done anything wrong, have you?” He teases, opening the small tin of biscuits on the table in front of him to offer it to Nakahara. “Biscuit?”

A small smile passes over Nakahara’s face before he shakes his head, tension melting slightly as he comments, “I had the same one in Hayama-sensei’s office.” 

“Ah.” Narumi grins sheepishly. “I like them a lot, so he got me several tins a few months ago.” He takes a bite off one, then leans back to ask, “so, is there something you’d like to talk about?” 

An uneasy look passes over Nakahara’s face, and Narumi pauses mid-chew as Nakahara asks unsurely, “Kouchou-sensei… you are close with Hayama-sensei, aren’t you?”

_ Ah.  _ Narumi thinks.  _ Another one.  _ He washes the biscuit down with a sip of his tea. “Yep.”

“Then... could you get him to talk? Please? It’s just that he’s the one listening to us all the time, students or teachers, especially after Ryuu-kun left and, and...” 

Narumi tilts his head, and gently prompts, “...and?” 

“Well, no one’s asked him how he feels about what happened. Isn’t that unfair towards him?” 

“I suppose it is, in a way. But depending on the person he is,”  _ that is to say, a private one _ , Narumi adds mentally, “maybe that’s how he prefers it to be.”

“B-but, all this while, Hayama-sensei always says that it’s not always good to keep feelings bottled up inside all the time.” The poor kid appears confused at Narumi’s statement, and Narumi smiles wryly.

“I have a little secret to share with you, Nakahara-kun. Adults are really bad at following their own advice. Don’t tell anyone though. It’ll make it difficult for us to tell you what to do.” 

The kid wrinkles his nose at Narumi at his words, confused, and Narumi hides a laugh behind a hand. “But you’re close friends with him, aren’t you? If he doesn’t want to talk to anyone, then he will, at least, talk to you right, Kouchou-sensei?” 

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re insistent that I should make him talk? To clarify - I had plans to talk to him today. You’re my… eleventh visitor today who told me to do so, Nakahara-kun, so your answer won’t affect my actions anyway.”

Nakahara fiddles with his collar once, and Narumi wonders if he should be more careful with what he says to him. He doesn’t look as troubled as he had been for the last few days - early in the week, Narumi had caught Nakahara zoning out in his class, but didn’t see fit to pay too much attention to that. The week has likely been rough to everyone, is what he had thought then, but Narumi is glad to see Nakahara looking less peaky and more focused. 

“I don’t know what the other students’ have told you but… he doesn’t seem to be quite there in class. Not in an inattentive way, but… well, we are worried. He’s lost weight too. The girls have pointed it out. I don’t want to assume but, I think, maybe, he might be feeling guilty for what happened with Ryuu. Everyone knows that he cares about us students - more than any of those assigned counsellors from the ministry. Those counsellors don’t teach us; they don’t know what we go through. Hayama-sensei does. ” 

Narumi hums. Guilt. He’ll remember that. 

“How is Miyazawa-kun, actually?” 

“He was discharged a few days ago, and is resting at home now. I visited him yesterday.” 

Narumi smiles faintly at Nakahara’s reply, the wash of relief buffered by his growing concern for Hayama. “That’s good.” 

“In fact, he wanted to thank Hayama-sensei for what he did and asked me to tell Hayama-sensei, but Hayama-sensei doesn’t seem to want to meet him.”

Now  _ that _ , is very concerning.

+++

Narumi knocks on the ajar door once to notify the occupant inside of his presence, and greets Hayama with a, “Takashi.” 

Hayama barely looks up from his papers at the address but he does gesture for Narumi to come in with the barest twitch of his pen. When his arm stretches back to switch on the kettle, Narumi waves him off before his finger reaches the switch. “I’ve had enough tea for the day, and I think you’ve had one too many coffee cups as well.” He explains with a feigned light tone, eyes flickering at the number of discarded coffee filters in the bin next to Hayama’s feet. 

“Is there something you needed from me, Kouchou-sensei?” Hayama finally asks after several moments of scribbling on the third year practice exams - it is the time of the year, Narumi dumbly remembers, and wonders if Hayama has had the time to finish his teaching assignments beyond everything that has happened.

“Yes.” Narumi perches himself on the arm of the couch, crosses his arms and puffs out his chest just a bit, then jokingly demands, “I require your presence for dinner.”

“Oh, do you now?” Hayama chuckles briefly as he glances over at Narumi. “What’s the occasion?” 

“To commemorate me having eleven visitors in my office today.” 

Hayama’s eyebrows raise at the comment, but Narumi understands now why the others have been worried. Hayama’s eyes are typically hard to read, but this time, they reflect only a hollowness that is uncharacteristic of the man. And Nakahara was right - Hayama  _ has _ lost weight, and more than what is probably healthy to lose in what two weeks? Narumi only wonders why he delayed his visit to Hayama’s office for so long. 

“That’s a lot of visitors. Why were they visiting you for?” 

“To request that I visit you. And feed you, I think.”

Just like that, Hayama looks away, putting aside the papers he has been marking in a taller stack before grabbing the next test from a thankfully more diminished stack. Narumi internally cringes at the sight, but leaves his tone as impassive as he possibly can as he adds, “I can see where they are coming from, really.”

“I’m not a pet. I don’t have to be fed or checked on.” 

“And yet you’ve lost weight.”

“Normal people can lose weight, Ryosuke-san.” 

“Not that much in the span of two weeks, Takashi.” Narumi reasons as quietly and gently as he possibly can. Hayama doesn’t have much of a temper, not like Narumi or the other teachers, but it is easy to tell when he feels uncomfortable or cornered. His tension is unerringly obvious from the way his fingers stiffen around his marking pen, and the very,  _ very _ discrete tick above his eye. It rarely appears, and the only reason why Narumi is aware of its existence is because he has been around Hayama long enough to notice. He decides to take a different approach. “You know it’s better to talk to someone if you have something bothering you. Healthier, than keeping it to yourself.”

“The school counsellor is me, Ryosuke-san, not you.” Hayama snaps without looking up. Narumi raises his hands in apology, but nevertheless continues, 

“I know. But as a Nakahara-kun reminded me today, it is rather unfair that you offer to listen to anyone in this school, but there is no one to do so for you. And he is correct. No one’s asked you about how you feel towards the recent incident with Miyazawa-kun.” 

“How I feel about it?” Hayama repeats flatly. “Wouldn’t my feelings be the same as any teacher in this school? Like yours, Kouchou-sensei.”

“Perhaps, but if your feelings were similar to mine, you would have agreed to visit Miyazawa-kun at his home to see how he is faring after Nakahara relayed the request. Yet you did not. Which means, no, our feelings are not necessarily the same about this matter.” Narumi reasons, and waits as Hayama rests his pen on the table. Narumi expects a response, but when it doesn’t happen and Hayama continues to look blankly at his table, Narumi gently adds, “I had eleven people ask me about your wellbeing today, Takashi, and I am concerned too. I’m not going to tell anyone about what happens in this room. Or, you can have dinner with me, where I will likely get you incredibly drunk  _ fast _ , given your recent weight loss and quite visible exhaustion, and then make you talk.” 

He’s not really giving Hayama an option, Narumi knows, and as if to prove his point he quietly nudges the door close with his foot. Hayama turns to face him at the soft click of the door, expression pinched. He raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, and sighs. “I can report you for harassment.” 

“To who?” Narumi asks innocently. “The entire staff wanted me to check on you. And I’m not asking you as your superior - I’m asking as a friend.”

“There’s not much to talk about.” Hayama replies evenly as he turns to Narumi. Perhaps he intends to sound nonchalant, but Narumi can identify the terseness in his tone, and tilts his head in a way he knows is probably irritating. 

“So you admit that there is something to talk about.” Narumi doesn’t wait for Hayama’s reply, knowing it will not come. Times like these, Narumi sees how Hayama can be more stubborn than he, and always in such inopportune times. When this happens, the only way of talking to him is to be more direct, is what Narumi has discovered. “So, why don’t you want to see Miyazawa-kun, Takashi? I remember when you were telling me about him several months back. He came to your office several times, you were concerned about his mental well-being, weren’t you?”

Hayama rolls his eyes. One might say it is uncharacteristic of him, but from experience with interacting with Hayama, Narumi knows that this part of him only comes out when he is tired or feeling on-edge - it is the facade slipping, because underneath his polite demeanour, Hayama can have a really sharp tongue. “Of course I was - I still am.” 

“Then…?” Narumi prompts, and clicks his tongue when he sees Hayama instinctively reach out for whatever is left in his coffee mug. Hayama’s hand drops to the table at the sound, the man looking not even the slightest bit sheepish as he reaches for his bottled water instead. Hayama uncaps the bottle, but does not drink from it. 

After several beats of silence, he caps the bottle, and asks, “Have you ever considered the reason he wants to see me?” 

“...to thank you? For saving his life, perhaps? There is a valid reason there.” Narumi answers slowly, knowing that there is, of course, more to what Hayama is trying to imply, trying to say without words. 

“I don’t need to be thanked.” Hayama’s voice trembles ever so slightly. 

“Okay. Well, that still doesn’t explain why you don’t want to see him.” They are getting somewhere, however. Hayama throws him a look - a look that Narumi is not quite familiar with, but he has known the man long enough to be able to read his body language. He is brimming with tension, trying to channel said nervous energy into his hands to fiddle with something, a bottle, a pen, papers, anything. An anxiety that he has been successful in suppressing over the last few days, but there can only be so many reasons as to what Hayama is feeling, and why he is responding the way he is. Hayama doesn’t offer an explanation or any information, as Narumi predicts, but this is where Nakahara’s explanations becomes useful. 

“...Takashi.” He starts slowly as he walks to the desk and leans his hip against the furniture. “You aren’t feeling guilty, are you?”

Hayama adamantly refuses to look up, head ducked down and mouth stubbornly shut, but his hand fists the fabric of his pants. The action, coupled with the silence, is enough of an answer for Narumi. 


	15. (14) H

His stomach hurts. 

It’s not from the fact that he’s skipped lunch for the upteenth day in a row (even though he knows that he  _ cannot _ , but nothing has happened to him, so that’s something positive - not that he cares), or from the countless cups of coffee he has had this entire afternoon despite knowing that caffeine on an empty stomach isn’t the best combination. 

His stomach hurts for different reasons, and the pain - for what started out as an ephemeral twinge - has grown to radiate to his chest at times; a by-product of negligence and self-reproach. What he is doing to himself feels like a penance of sorts, except that there is no one to forgive him or to grant him leniency besides himself. Hayama knows it is all in his head, yet the thought of having failed another forbids him from forgiving himself. 

It’s always like this, the fall. But he has no one to blame but himself, for growing complacent and failing in his role.  _ Again. _ He doesn’t understand; he worked  _ this  _ hard, worked to reach where he is now so that he can help more people. Yet… 

“Hey.” 

And here is Narumi, with his ever, non-negligible existence in Hayama’s daily life. He has missed the man, admittedly. Some part of him considered visiting Narumi’s office a few days before today. Perhaps unconscientiously, his mind knew that if there is anyone capable of turning off the noisy thoughts in his mind, it would be Narumi, but it has been easy to infer Narumi’s own absence from Hayama’s office. He’s equally busy, if not busier than Hayama, dealing with the aftermath of Hayama’s inadequacy. 

Narumi squats down next to him, and peers up to his face. From his peripheral vision, Hayama can see that the principal’s forehead is wrinkled in concern, but Hayama makes no attempts to meet his gaze. 

He’s making someone worry for him again - and he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

A hand touches his knee lightly, as if one were to pet a feral cat, then lightly shifts to press a smooth thumb across his cheek. When the finger slides across the curve of his cheekbone, Hayama feels the smear of something wet against his skin, and he shivers. 

Narumi shifts a bit closer. “Talk to me. What’s bothering you?”

“I…” He closes his eyes and reaches up to wipe at them with the back of his hand. Sometimes he feels like he is too old for this, to be his age and have someone asking him what’s wrong. But then again, he supposes if he is a child, he would be less capable of relaying his worries. He blinks away the moisture from his eyes, and asks quietly, “is… was it my fault?” 

Narumi’s breath catches at his question. 

“No, of course it wasn’t.” He answers quietly after a pause. Narumi stands up with only a grunt, but Hayama does not trace the action, head ducked. He jerks in shock when a hand falls on head and a handkerchief is offered in front of his face. Hayama accepts it with a soft nod, but Narumi doesn’t remove his hand from where it is patting his hair. “It’s no one’s fault, and it is definitely not yours.” 

“But I knew.” 

“And so did I. But neither of us could imagine what would happen. You saved him though, isn’t that enough?” 

Hayama shakes his head vigorously in denial. “I didn’t save him. What happened two weeks ago shouldn’t have happened in the first place. I was supposed to help him.” 

“And you did. Don’t you think that things could have gone worse if you weren’t there?”

“But… what’s the point of me being here, in this position, if I can’t do anything for anyone? I — I keep failing —”

“You know, if you count your worth in the number of times you’ve failed, then you’re never going to be happy.” Narumi interrupts as he squeezes Hayama’s shoulder. “No one’s going to tell you about all the times you’ve saved someone, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t.”

“I don’t…” Hayama covers his face with his palms. He is tired. When he lost Yuzuko, he blamed himself for not seeing the signs. This time, the signs were more than obvious - Miyazawa had been  _ talking _ to him about it, Hayama had seen progress, and even then… “What am I supposed to do?”

Narumi lets out a quiet sigh, and Hayama wonders if the man is going to give up on him. “....Let’s go out for dinner. My treat. Staying cooped up in the office isn’t good for you.”

“But…” His markings - between the visitors to his office, his restless nights and the preliminary tests the third years have - have stacked up significantly. 

“Markings can wait. I know you’ve been especially busy these last two weeks. Come on.” Narumi grabs his wrist and lightly pulls him up to his feet. Hayama stumbles lightly but is immediately steadied by Narumi’s grip on his arm. “You need to be fed.  _ I _ need to be fed. And maybe have a drink or two.” 

“Kouchou-sensei.” 

“Nope, we’re officially off the clock. And we’re going for dinner at the pie place because their autumn-special menu is excellent and I’m not in the mood for anything Japanese.”

“Ryosuke-san.” Hayama tries again, exasperation leaking into his tone. 

“You have an objection?” 

“I’m not very hungry.” 

“Well you are still eating  _ something _ .” Narumi replies shortly. “And do you have any appointments set on next week Monday and Wednesday, 5pm?” 

Hayama glances at his calendar, confused, but shakes his head when he confirms that the afternoon is clear. 

“You now have an appointment with me on both days for an hour, in my office, after which we’ll go for dinner together.” 

“Your office?” Usually, it is Narumi who comes to  _ his _ office, not the other way around. “An appointment for what?”

Narumi nods. “My office. Because I think you need a change of scenery once in a while. And for you to talk to me about whatever you want.”

“...I’m the school counsellor, Ryosuke-san. Not you.” 

“Oh, I know that. You’ve mentioned before, yes. But that’s just an excuse so that you don’t have to talk to someone, which is, as you know, very bad for you.” Narumi informs him matter-of-factly, a fake, condescending smile plastered on his face as if he knows that Hayama dislikes it when Narumi practices logical reasoning on him.  _ I dislike you _ , would be Hayama’s typical jibe when this happens (it happens often), but then Narumi knows that the statement is a lie too. The conflict must be visible on Hayama’s facial expression, for Narumi grins and squeezes his shoulder again, lightly. “I like you too.”

Hayama  _ nearly _ smiles at that, but he catches himself at the last minute. It always surprises him how quickly Narumi can distract him. Hayama shakes his head. “Get out of my office and grab your coat. I’m not nursing you back to health if you catch another cold.”


	16. (15) H

WInter.

It is not the flu. Hayama insists that it is not the flu, and the day being the third last day of the year (read: 29th December) and therefore winter vacation means that there is no one to convince him otherwise. It's a mystery how he manages to get to school in the first place, really - the medicine he takes at breakfast is enough to render him more than sufficiently functional enough to take the train to school.

It is not that he does not know what’s best for himself, per se, but simply because he knows there is no point of him to stay at home; it’s been the case for two years straight, although in his defense, his first New Year’s ‘alone’ (i.e. last year) was spent with him at the hospital recovering from a relapse. He is not being blatantly neglectful of his health either - it is really the fault of his constitution, as one might say. He had hoped he would grow out of it as an adult, but that was not the case, unfortunately. 

And that leaves him here, in the staff bathroom at noon, half-regretting having left his apartment in the first place. This situation is salvageable, however - there are very little individuals in the school, being the end of the year, which means  _ no one _ is here to see him like this, sprawled on the bathroom floor with only enough strength to  _ maybe _ make it to pull himself up to the sink...

He breathes heavily through his mouth, unable to get enough air through his stuffy nose, and hefts himself up while clutching onto the porcelain. The action takes up a majority of his energy and his legs are shaky when he finally looks at his reflection. Perhaps he should make a visit to the hospital sometime this holiday… Hayama exhales wearily, and gags when the motion triggers a series of wet coughs. He hates this - hates being miserable and weak and lonely and cold. Every time this happens, Hayama finds himself only resenting himself even more. 

He has no room to wallow in his thoughts, however. As if someone has decided to make this year especially miserable for him, he hears someone knocking on the door. 

“Takashi? You in there?"

Hayama sighs in partial relief when he hears his first name; only Narumi would address him so right now (simply because it's the holidays and therefore no one would be around to pay attention to their friendship). If he had the energy to do so, he would have however chosen to address Narumi by his title - because this is still their workplace. He nevertheless internally cringes at the prospect of being discovered. Of course Narumi would be in school as well - Hayama should have known better. 

He hears a knock on the door once more, timid-sounding, as if Narumi is uncertain of what to do; perhaps it is his delirium that makes him envision the man pouting in concentration, deciding if he should come in or not. Narumi can be so expressive at times. 

And as if to cement the fact that he is approaching delirium, he misses the moment Narumi opens the door and flinches so badly when a cool arm grabs his own burning one that he nearly falls. The shock is enough to drive blood away from his head; coupled with his rising fever, the cumulation of restless nights, a terribly high fever and other cold-associated symptoms has his body tilting;, and his head feeling blissfully blank.

"Takashi?! Hey!”

He jerks into semi-conscious at the startled cry of his name, and finds himself being held up as soon as he manages to blink away the dark spots in his vision. Narumi has reached out to grab both of his biceps, stopping his fall (faint), and is looking at him with great concern. His appearance makes Hayama's heart ache - they resemble the same eyes Izumi has shown him once before, the same ones he say when she clutched onto his arms and held him outside the hospital pavement — 

Hayama tries to pull away, albeit weakly, but Narumi holds fast to him. "Easy there, it’s just me.” He reassures, as though Hayama doesn’t already know its him; of course he does, who else calls him by his first name, if not Narumi. “You’re burning up - what on earth are you doing in school like this?”

“There’s no one at home.” He blurts out in feverish-honesty, and mentally chides himself for making himself sound like a child. That’s not something he should be saying to his superior, Narumi or not, but his attempts to take back his words has him coughing when the cold air hits his already painful throat. He gags once at the feeling of thick mucus trickling down his nasal passages, but manages to breathe through the nausea. Next to him, Narumi inhales sharply; it is an action Hayama knows the man does when he is worried about something. Half of Hayama wishes Narumi would leave him alone - he isn’t ready for Narumi to see him like this, no. It doesn’t matter that they have known each other for over a year and a half now, and have been (close?) friends for over half that time. 

If there’s anything Hayama has learnt from his past, it is that his emotional dependency is only going to hurt both parties. 

He closes his eyes when he feels a cool hand reaching up to feel his forehead, the contact undeterred as Narumi sweeps his damp hair aside to press against his skin. His hand sweeps down to Hayama’s neck almost immediately, as if unconvinced of the temperature he finds. 

Narumi is going to be angry with him, Hayama is quite certain of that. 

“Do you need to go to the hospital? I drove to work today.” 

“m—” Hayama stops and clears his throat when his voice comes out hoarse, voice sounding clogged from his blocked nose. “I’m okay.” 

“No, you’re not.” Narumi frowns. “You’re sick. I saw you wearing a mask when you came into the school today. Did you catch the influenza that has been going around?” 

If he did, Narumi shouldn’t be this close to him.

“It’s just a cold. You shouldn’t stand so close to me.” 

“If it’s just a cold, then you’re not contagious. If it’s influenza, I’ve been vaccinated.” Narumi comments with thinly-veiled humor and significant concern. “This fever is at least a 38. Can I help you to the infirmary? You look like you need a lie down.”

“My office is sufficient.” 

“Your office has a sofa – the infirmary has beds.” He insists stubbornly, but Hayama knows the room would be locked for the holidays. Perhaps the infirmary would be comfortable but judging by the manner the bathroom is tilting, he suspects it would be best if he doesn’t have to walk too far. 

“Office.” Hayama rasps, “I have medicine in my office and… I don’t know how far I can walk.” 

The confession makes his cheeks flush in discomfiture, but Narumi acquiesces, reluctantly nodding. His warming cheeks can be attributed to his fever when Narumi leans over to slide an arm beneath Hayama’s shoulders; he is not blushing at all. Nevertheless, Narumi takes no notice, his face clouded with concern as Hayama lean heavily into his body. Hayama is apparently a lot weaker than he thinks he is, and his world swirls with their first few steps. 

“Don’t pass out on me now.” Narumi’s voice is filled with panic next to Hayama’s ear. 

“I’m okay.” He manages after a few slow breaths, and lets Narumi guide him out of the room at a slow and steady pace. 

“That’s the poorest lie I’ve ever heard - and we both heard our fair share in class. At least it hit you in the holidays.” Narumi mutters under his breath, “then at least you can rest properly. Goodness know you don’t know how to do that during the school term.”

Hypocrite, Hayama wants to say, but they are already at his office. The man is as bad as he is, if his presence today isn’t an obvious indication. Nevertheless, he keeps quiet, taking in the feeling of warmth that settles heavily in his chest (he interprets this as fondness) when Narumi quickly wraps him with the nearby blanket as soon as he is on his couch.

“Your office is cold.” Narumi hisses as he hurries to switch on the heater. “Why isn’t the heater switched on? Haven’t you been here since morning?”

Because Hayama couldn’t differentiate between the cold temperature and his feverish chills, not that he would openly tell Narumi that. Hayama lets out a soft sound as he lies down, glasses crooked as they press against the slightly rough fabric of the sofa arm. He hasn’t realized how much his head has been aching but now that he is finally horizontal, he can barely keep his eyes open. He should have known better to take better precautions for his health these past few weeks. 

A jacket is loosely draped over his legs, and Narumi carefully pinches off Hayama’s glasses off his face as he asks, “you said you have medicine you are taking here?”

“Coat pocket.” He mumbles tiredly, and then remembers the time. Squinting at the clock hanging on the wall, Hayama realizes it is due time for him to take his daily pills again, although he has yet to eat lunch. Not that he can hold down lunch, probably, but nevertheless… “And what’s in the envelope in the top drawer.” 

He always keeps an emergency strip of his pills in his workplace after all. It would be disastrous for him to skip out on too much of them. There is a high chance that Narumi will learn about his medical condition from this, but Hayama no longer feels the need to hide it from him any longer. Of course, when they have gone out for meals, Hayama has always chosen to take his pills out of sight from Narumi, not wanting to concern him (because the man  _ will _ worry, because he is caring like that), but the desire to be more openly honest with Narumi has grown substantially recently. Or perhaps this is his loneliness and fever speaking - Hayama isn’t sure. He is poor at dealing with these situations when sick. He’ll likely make the worse of decisions.

Yet, Narumi makes no sound of confusion as he retrieves the mediation and pops them out at the appropriate dosage in accordance to the instructions on the envelope, and hands Hayama an opened bottle of water. “Here.”

Hayama forces himself to sit up partially, nodding in appreciation at Narumi’s considerate support. He is more than capable of taking care of himself (or so he thinks), even in the poor state he is in, but there is something reassuring and steady about Narumi’s presence – there is no spite or unnecessary coddling, just concern, as expected of the principal. Since he has left Toyama, he made a promise to himself to not rely too much on an individual - he was quite set in living the rest of his days alone, especially after things fell out with his wife, but his decision to leave her and start ‘afresh’ is perhaps the best one he has made yet. There are scars and habits he is still unable to confront, but Hayama will not deny the positive influence the new school and Narumi has been for his mental health. 

It is perhaps for that reason Hayama finds no issue letting his vulnerability show in front of Narumi. He can be human. 

“I’m going to wrap up whatever I had going in my office, then I’ll come back to drive you home, alright?” 

“That’s unnecessary, Kouchou-sensei.” Hayama shivers, and sinks deeper into the sofa, already feeling wiped out from sitting up. His fever is getting worse, he can tell, but that is not a good reason to disturb Narumi from his own work. The medicine will kick in soon enough, and he will likely be able to get himself home after some sleep. “I can manage.” 

A hand tests his temperature again, and Narumi hisses. “I hardly think so with that fever of yours.” 

He says something more after that, but Hayama no longer hears him, exhaustion dragging him down into a restless darkness. 

The next time Hayama comes into awareness, he finds himself in an unfamiliar bed with his throat parched, and everywhere else hurting. There is little light in wherever he is, and the world is blurry without his glasses, but the sheets beneath him are soft and clean. Nevertheless, Hayama cannot help but panic, a soft, croaky sound escaping him as he struggles to sit up. 

“You’re awake – hey, no, you should lie down.” The familiar voice does nothing to calm Hayama, who flinches away from the shadow of a hand reaching for his body. “It’s just me, Narumi, Takashi. It’s me. It’s okay. I just want to help.” 

Hayama stills at the reassurance, but his body trembles nevertheless when the cool hand reaches out to grab his bicep apprehensively, as though to test his reaction. There is a soft yellow light from nearby, and it allows his hurting eyes to grow accustomed to the room. The place looks vaguely familiar, but it is hard for him to discern any recognizable features of his current location without his glasses. He chooses to instead focus what is left of his attention and energy on Narumi’s face.

The man is wearing a comfortable-looking sweater, and his damp hair and towel across his shoulders indicate to Hayama that Narumi must have just showered.

“This is my apartment. Maybe you don’t recognize it because you’ve never been here in my bed before. You were burning up when I returned to your office, and I couldn’t wake you up, so I brought you back to my apartment instead. I couldn’t leave you there.” Narumi explains softly, and requests kindly, “Relax, rest. I’ll get you something to drink and eat once you do.” 

“Time?”

Narumi lets out a confused sound, and Hayama repeats, voice rough, “What time is it?” 

“Shortly after 9 pm. I’m glad you’re awake.” Narumi presses a hand to the side of Hayama’s neck, and the temperature difference causes Hayama to flinch. “Your temperature is a bit lower now. That’s good.” 

Unease rises in Hayama’s chest, the feeling cloying in his gut like nausea. 9 pm is late - too late. It is one thing for him to have Narumi  _ know _ that he is sick and help him in his office, but this, this is too much. 

He has been bothering Narumi for too long, taking up his bed and – “I should go home. I’ve bothered you too much.” Hayama mumbles, and shakily begins to push away at the blankets covering his body. He is in clothes that are not his – Narumi’s probably, and his fever-addled mind interprets the situation as ‘dangerous’. Emotional dependency is not good. He doesn’t want to inconvenience the man, he doesn’t want his  _ mind _ to rationalize this situation as acceptable. 

(He doesn’t want to  _ cling _ .)

However, his movements are unsteady, and his vision swims when he forces himself more upright, a pained moan leaving him as he does so. Narumi lets out a soft curse, and shuffles closer to him, sitting properly now, on the edge of his bed as he wraps an arm around Hayama’s shoulders and firmly tugs it back down. 

“You’re not going anywhere. It’s either here or the hospital.” Narumi reaches over and adjusts the pillows. “I’ll help you sit up in bed, but you’re not going anywhere, Takashi. You look like a ghost.” 

“Kouchou-sensei—” Hayama rasps, but reluctantly allows himself to be arranged onto a pile of neatly arranged pillows, and sags. 

“Narumi. We’re not at school anymore, and you know I insist you call me by my name, or Ryosuke. Whichever works.” 

Despite Narumi’s calm persistence, Hayama cannot help but fidget. Hayama has never been good at accepting such favours. He stifles his coughs into his elbow, and shakes his head once more, “Narumi-san. I don’t want to impose. I’m taking up your bed.” 

“I have an extra futon you know, for when my mother or brother comes over or what not. I did not bring you here without thought. Now,  _ please _ , relax. I’ll drive you home tomorrow if your fever stays down tonight.”

“I can take care of myself.” Is Hayama’s weak reply, but he knows this is an argument he cannot win. Narumi has that stubborn look on his face - the one that Hayama personally likes to see on the man, whenever he is sure of something and will fight tooth and nail for it, the one that Hayama knows makes Narumi a good person for students to look up to. Except in this setting, in which Narumi’s headstrong and caring personality will forbid Hayama from returning to his own apartment.

Narumi reaches up to pat his hair, a habit he has picked up from Hayama, surely enough. His smile is unbearably gentle, one that makes emotions well up in Hayama’s chest despite Hayama’s determination to not let Narumi see this side of him. 

“I know you can. Just let me do this. I don’t really like the thought of you being alone when you’re this sick. And you said so this afternoon - there’s no one at home, right? I understand the feeling.” Narumi squeezes his hand, as though sensing his unease, and checks the time. “Now that you’re awake and semi-conscious, let’s get some water and food in you. You’ll need them to take your pills, right?”

Pills. Hayama pales further at the mention and remembers that he is long overdue to take them. It shouldn’t be an issue if he misses one, given that he hasn’t had a flare up in a while, but there is always a higher risk of getting a flare-up when his health is compromised like this. Before he can panic, however, Narumi deposits the two strips of medication on his lap. 

“I nicked them before I brought you to my car. 3 times a day, daily, right?” Narumi helpfully explains as he heads into the kitchen. The soft sound of porcelain and metal clinkering against each other emerges from the distant room, as well as the beeping of the microwave. It isn’t too long before he returns with a small tray holding a bowl and a small cup of yogurt.

If he had more energy, Hayama would appear more surprised, but instead he holds the pills limply in his hands, unsure of what to think and what to say. Narumi figured it out quickly.

“I used to work in a company, you know. Before I became a principal. I had a colleague who shared your condition. The pills are the same.” Narumi lowers the tray on Hayama’s blanketed lap, and before dragging his chair over to the bedside. Hayama blinks blearily at Narumi’s illuminated desk, unable to clearly make out much of the paperwork scattered without his glasses, until he notices the black frames resting on the tray as well. 

His brain is well and truly sluggish, given that he hasn’t noticed its existence up until now. 

“Go on. You didn’t have anything for lunch too, right?” Narumi patiently cajoles, and for a moment, Hayama feels indignant and embarrassed at how Narumi is speaking to him as though he is a child, even if that is likely not his true intention. The attention makes Hayama feel even more vulnerable than he already is, despite knowing that Narumi has already witnessed him when he was in the midst of a panic attack. Hands trembling slightly, Hayama sighs – stifling the coughs that emerge alongside his exhale – and picks up the already opened cup of yogurt, sitting innocuously on the left side of the tray. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles softly.

Narumi doesn’t comment, but as soon as Hayama takes the first reluctant spoonful of yogurt – he isn’t that hungry, unfortunately – Narumi nods and retrieves a book on the desk to read, pulling his attention away from Hayama. Hayama isn’t oblivious though; even with Narumi’s gaze fixed on the book, the man is still watching him somehow, making sure that he is eating. 

He is not a stranger to having someone take care of him while he is sick, but the last time Hayama experienced this, it was back in Toyama, and then prior to that, when he was still with his wife. The okayu, while not identical in taste, is delicious and warming. He doubts it is store-bought or instant okayu, meaning that Narumi must have made it for him while he was asleep.

A glass of water is handed to him the moment he finishes his dinner, Narumi moving up to take the tray. “Do you want more?” 

Hayama shakes his head bashfully. “Thank you for the meal.” 

“Just say so if you get hungry again, alright? You’ve lost quite a bit of weight after what happened in November, and I noticed you haven't gotten it back yet." The observation has Hayama blushing in self-consciousness, but he supposes he can feign it for his fever instead. Narumi must be thinking the latter, as he frowns and tilts his head in consideration. “Try to get more sleep. The faster you rest, the faster you’ll get better.” 

And the faster Hayama will get out of Narumi’s hair, of course. Hayama gingerly rubs his face, feeling the heat through his clammy hands. He really should not be in here, yet he knows his body well enough that he will not be able to take several steps from Narumi’s apartment, moreover return to his home.

A warm hand lands in Hayama’s hair, heavy and comforting as Narumi pulls himself onto the edge of the bed. “Don’t be silly. You’re not in my hair. I did bring you here on my own accord.” 

“Did I say that out loud?” Hayama mumbles.

“Yes.” Narumi answers dryly as he pushes Hayama’s shoulders down to make him lie down on the bed. The manhandling is only embarrassing because it cements the fact that Hayama isn’t well enough to even converse with, but Narumi doesn’t reiterate the point. “Now, seriously. Sleep. You’re barely keeping your eyes open.”

“They’re open.” 

“How many fingers am I holding up then?” 

Hayama doesn’t answer – he tries to squint to sharpen his already blurry version, and only notes that Narumi isn’t even holding up any fingers before everything turns dark.


	17. (16) N

It feels admittedly strange to have someone in his bed. Not because he is not accustomed to it, although it certainly hasn't happened in a significantly long time, and even then, not for these reasons. But Narumi bears no negative feelings towards the current situation, besides maybe worry and concern for said person in his bed. Said feelings are enough to distract him from focusing on his book, and after finding himself still stuck on the same page for the last ten minutes, Narumi decidedly gives up in trying to read and turns in his chair to look at Hayama.

It is not the first time he has seen Hayama asleep; he has caught the man napping on his couch or at his desk before, when it is past school hours and it is only maybe a small handful of students and administrative staff left. It surprised Narumi the first time to see the lights to Hayama’s ‘office’ still turned on past 7 pm. He initially thought that Hayama was occupied with a student, but upon closer inspection found the man asleep at his desk with graded assignments stacked on his table. Perhaps if he was an older, more conservative principal, he may have disapproved finding Hayama sleeping within school compounds, but he knows better than to doubt his work ethic. Like today, for example.

Honestly, Hayama was really stupid for coming to school with such a high fever - if Narumi hadn't been in around and the man collapsed from a 39 degree fever, no one would have found in until after the New Year holidays. The thought causes Narumi to shudder, but he understands the feeling of not wanting to be alone too well. 'There's no one at home.', Hayama had said, probably deliriously; if Narumi left him alone right after, there is no way he wouldn't feel like a right monster about it. 

Reaching forward, Narumi sighs when he feels the heat radiating from under Hayama’s jaw. The fever patch that he has stuck onto Hayama’s forehead right after he fell back asleep two hours ago has already started to turn lukewarm, but Hayama’s fever shows no signs of breaking anytime soon; under the covers, his body shakes with minute chills that is hard to watch. Narumi really wonders if it was the right decision for him to not bring Hayama to the hospital directly. 

No, bringing him home is definitely the right choice. If Hayama has the capacity to be livid, he likely would have if Narumi brought him there without his consent.

Narumi jerks in his seat when his phone suddenly begins to vibrate loudly on his desk, cursing under his breath as he hurriedly fetches the device before whoever is calling wakes Hayama up. Hayama lets out a soft, painful sound at the noise, and Narumi is quick to shush him back to sleep with a gentle brush of his hair as he accepts the call. 

“Kaa-san—” Narumi sighs into the phone.

“You don’t so happy with me calling you. Did I wake you?” His mother sounds non-apologetic despite the question. Narumi rolls his eyes fondly as he quietly exits his room to take the call. 

“No, I was awake. But it  _ is _ rather late in the day to call, Kaa-san.”

“I know, I know. I figured you’d be up reading or maybe at one of your end-of-year parties with your friends. Anyway, I’m calling to ask if you’re coming home over the New Year’s - if so, I’ll save some Osechi for you before your brother finishes it.” 

Narumi bites his lip in consideration as he looks back to his bedroom. “I’d like to, but…” 

“You’re busy?” 

He doesn’t miss the disappointed tone in her voice, and is quick to correct her. “No, I’m not. I’d love to come over. It’s just that I have this friend who’s… well, really sick right now and I’m not sure how well they’ll be tomorrow. I'll visit before the school year starts, definitely.” Hopefully, Hayama would be better by tomorrow, but even if so, Narumi doesn’t trust him on his own. 

“Oh. The poor thing fell sick on the New Year holidays? That’s really awful timing. She’s staying at your place, Ryo-chan?” 

“He.” He says absentmindedly. ‘Poor thing’ is an excellent descriptor for Hayama, to be honest. “He’s staying at my place, yeah. He’s one of the teachers in school, actually.”

“Ahhhh, Hayama-sensei, is it? The one who took care of you when you caught that summer cold.” 

“Yeah. He came to school with a 39 degree fever today - I couldn’t bear to leave him alone. He said there’s no one at home and, well…” Narumi frowns to himself. Once in a while, he gets that odd emotion whenever he thinks about Hayama. They are… close friends, he believes, but the man can be so secretive and vague about himself, and tendency which Narumi respects, but is also frustrated by. Like about his chronic medical problem, which Narumi only found out about  _ today _ , even though they’ve been having meals together for months now.

Hayama understandably has his own baggage that he doesn’t want others to know about. Everyone has their own secrets, but it simply irks Narumi that for someone who is so generous and caring towards others, Hayama seems perfectly  _ incapable _ of doing the same for himself. And it boggles Narumi, completely, on how someone can be so matyr-like to the point of, Narumi would gander, self-harm. He has been more watchful of Hayama since November, and has been learning how to better interpret his actions - hopefully to prevent a breakdown from occurring. 

It is not an easy task, no, but he knows the signs - has seen it before in fact, but has always brushed it off as simply a quirk of Hayama’s. The panic attacks might have been an early sign that Hayama doesn’t know how to cope  _ well  _ with his problems, but Narumi had always presumed that he'd be fine, that he was strong. 

He supposes even the strong ones needed some help sometimes. 

"...Ryosuke? Ryosuke, have you fallen asleep on me?" 

"Still here, sorry." He shakes his head to refocus himself. “Got distracted." 

His mother lets out a chuckle, and teases, “worried about your friend, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah. He’s a good one. Cares about the students, worries about them sometimes, worries about  _ me _ sometimes, rarely thinks about himself.” 

She hums - it’s a comforting sound, familiar, and Narumi kind of wishes she is here to meet Hayama. “Sounds like someone I know.”

“Dad?”

“Mmmhmmm.” Narumi can imagine her smile from the receiver. “You should bring him over for New Year’s, Ryosuke. I think I’d like to meet him, if he’s well enough.” 

“I’ll ask if he wants to come along. But I’ll definitely visit you, so the osechi…”

“I’ll save some, make some extra, of course. Let me know when, and don’t forget to call on New Year’s! Take care of yourself and your friend.” 

“I will. I'll likely catch a shinkansen there before the school term restarts. Take care of yourself as well, Kaa-san.”

The call ends, leaving Narumi feeling rather bereft but also warm. He has thought of it before - how Hayama would likely get along extremely well with his mother. He’ll likely be doted on. The image makes Narumi smile to himself for several moments, before finally putting his phone down to head to the extra closet in the living room. He is probably going to set up the futon next to his bed, he thinks, just so that he can watch Hayama a bit more closely at night.

***

Narumi is preparing for bed when he hears Hayama shuffling under the covers, a quiet moan slipping past his lips and adding to the noise of his already laboured breathing. Sitting up on his made-futon, Narumi lets out a shushing noise as he strokes the hot skin of Hayama’s arm. Although Hayama’s fever is not yet broken, Narumi is relieved to find no obvious increase in his temperature. Perhaps his condition will improve tomorrow. 

Hayama sleeps curled up, Narumi realizes, just like a cat. The sight is rather endearing, for it makes the tall man appear so small on the bed, barely taking up space and making Narumi feel inclined to protect him, oddly enough. 

“...Narumi?” 

Narumi gives Hayama a small, reassuring smile as Hayama's eyes flutter open ever so slightly. Beneath the long lashes, his eyes appear glassy and obviously, not quite fully there yet. 

"Hey there." Narumi greets gently, reaching up to rest his hand on Hayama's hair. Hayama's eyes shut automatically at the touch, but Narumi knows he is still awake by the way Hayama shifts his head into the touch, as if looking for affection. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." 

"Go back to sleep then. You need all the rest you can get if you want to recover quickly." 

"Don't want to." Hayama replies after a pause, sounding particularly small as he confesses, “dreams are… weird.”

“Fever dreams tend to be so.” Narumi agrees, although he does prefer if Hayama get more rest - the dark circles beneath his eyes are more pronounced in the dim lighting of the room, even though Hayama has been largely asleep for more than half the day. Whatever is ravaging through his system is being particularly rough on his body, it seems. Even as if Hayama seems capable of dialogue, Narumi suspects he isn’t a hundred percent there. “You should still get a lot of rest.”

“...can’t we talk instead?”

Biting his lip, Narumi mentally berates himself for being so lenient with Hayama (just with him, really), and acquiesces immediately. “For a bit, okay. But then you’re going back to sleep.”

Hayama blinks back at him owlishly. Perhaps a minute worth of conversation before he falls back asleep then, Narumi guesses. 

"What would you like to talk about?" He offers, not halting in the slow movements of his hand weaving through Hayama's hair. The touch is intimate, but it doesn't feel wrong. They've must have crossed that barrier some time ago. 

"Anything."

"O...kay. Let's see… it's nearly been a year and a half since you moved from Toyama right?" He tilted his head, quite shocked at himself for not knowing more than that. This afternoon, when he was trying to get Hayama home, he was quite stunned to realize that he doesn't kmow the man's address in spite of them having gone out together several times. Not even the general vicinity is known to him. "I've never asked you how you like Tokyo. Weird, how our conversations never got to that point." 

"Tokyo is… noisy. Toyama was quiet. Quiet and spacious but… lonely." 

"But Tokyo is crowded, isn't it? Full of people." 

Hayama nods once, then appears to curl up even more tightly around the duvet he has clutched in his hand. "Tokyo is compact but noisy. My current apartment is smaller than my previous home in Toyama, but… it's equally lonely. So much emptier." 

"We should go interior décor shopping next time, then." Narumi says jokingly, but feels his chest clenching at the heart-rendering words, spoken in such detached tone. 

"Haven't even unpacked all my things yet." Hayama confesses, "don't know if I can."

Suddenly petrified, Narumi's hand stills as he asks, "you plan to move again?" When Hayama shakes his head, Narumi is suddenly able to breathe again, amd hides a sigh of relief as he rests his chin on the mattress. "But you don't like it here?"

"I don't know. I don't… I like…" Hayama suddenly appears to struggle with his words, eyebrows furrowing as he licks his dry lips. Narumi reaches for the glass of water on the table immediately, putting the straw as close to Hayama's mouth and encouraging him to drink as much as possible while discreetly checking his temperature by grabbing his hand. He frowns at what he finds - Hayama's fever is rising again. He should really get some more rest, sleep as much as much as possible and let his body fight off the bug. 

"What do you like or not like?" Narumi prompts after replacing the glass on the desk, and tests the temperature of the cooling patch on Hayama's forehead. It'll likely last for several more hours, but he'll set an alarm to wake up in two or three to replace it. He's mildly alarmed by how nonreactive Hayama is to his actions. Perhaps a trip to the hospital is in order tomorrow then.

"I don't know. I'm… I've been confused." He says, sounding haunted.

"What about?" 

“I don’t know what to do anymore. What makes me... happy? I haven’t felt happy in a long time. I just wanted to be good for her.” 

“Her? Your ex-wife?”

Hayama's nodding grows more vigorous, face twisting into grief. Narumi offers his hand, and watches in silence as Hayama clutches onto them desperately. Although he doesn't think this is the best time for Hayama to work himself up, it doesn't escape him that this might be what's best for Hayama mentally now, regardless of whether or not he is fully 'here'. "It was all my fault...And Izumi-chan. I couldn't give her what she wanted - even though she tried so hard to help. And my students. I failed Yuzuko-chan. I… what if I fail them again?"

Narumi cups Hayama's cheek to regain his focus, and offers him the kindest smile he can muster after hearing the fear in Hayama's words when teary eyes swivel to his. How does someone live like that, for so long without telling anyone, Narumi doesn't understand. "You won't." He promises, and repeats himself when Hayama begins to shake his head. "You won't fail them. You care too much about them to fail them, do you understand? The fact that you care means you haven't failed anyone."

"I couldn't save them." 

When a single tear begins to trickle from the corner of Hayama's eye, Narumi sweeps it away with his thumb. His chest hurts too, but not for the names Hayama are talking about - he doesn't recognize them - but for the man himself. It always comes back to this, doesn't it? "You can't save everyone, Takashi. And when you say this, don't you know how many lives you've saved? You can't count your efforts based on how many times you feel like you've failed." He's said the same thing before, hasn't he? 

"But—"

Narumi shakes his head to cut the man off. "I'll say it to you a thousand times if I have to. You can't blame yourself for being unable to save everyone. No one can. And you shouldn't feel guilty for that. If you feel that way again, any day, you tell me and I will shake you until you get this into your head, do you understand?"

Hayama nods, wide-eyed, and Narumi deflates. This man…

"Thank you." Hayama whispers a moment later.

"No, thank  _ you _ . I wish I made you talk about this earlier…" Narumi shakes his head and gently messes Hayama's hair. "We'll talk about it again when you're well, alright? Now please go to sleep. Your fever is going up again."

This time, Hayama agrees with little resistance, but his hands remain tightly gripped around Narumi's hand until he falls back asleep. The conversation must have sapped his energy, Narumi muses, and sighs once again as he watches Hayama snuffle lightly in his sleep. 


	18. (17) H

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I took liberties in inserting Takoyaki!Trio in here. *shrug*

Someone is calling his name. 

"Takashi? Can you hear me?" 

He can, but his head - or rather, his entire body - feels too heavy for him to turn towards the source of the call. If he tries hard enough, he can perhaps muster enough energy to tilt his head ever so slightly. Someone’s hand slips into his, and squeezes. The fingers are ice-cold, and he wants to pull away, but whoever is holding his hand holds fast to him, and Hayama has no strength to move away. 

“Takashi? If you can hear me, do you have your health insurance card with you?” 

Of course he does. With his body, the card is always in his wallet. He squeezes the hand, and tries again, once more, to open his eyes. He manages to open them scantily, and sees Narumi’s concerned face looming right over him. He looks stressed about something. He shouldn’t frown too much - it’ll leave wrinkles on his forehead. 

“That’s a yes. In your wallet?” Narumi asks quickly. 

Hayama tries to nod again. Always, of course. 

“Okay.” Narumi squeezes his hand. “Thank you. We’re going to the hospital, okay?” 

Hospital? Why there? He doesn’t want to - not  _ again _ \- but before he can  _ try _ to make a sound of protest, he is drifting once again. He hopes that Narumi doesn’t worry too much. 

***

The next time Hayama is close to consciousness again, he is immediately cognizant of the change in location. This is  _ not _ his bed, nor is it Narumi’s. He recognizes the irritating stream of warm air near his nose. And the room smells wrong, sterile, devoid of noise besides a soft beeping and muted footsteps from far away. If he has the capacity to sigh, he would have done so. 

Are all his New Year’s fated to have him in the hospital? It’s becoming rather depressing really, to have to spend the end and start of each year in the hospital, with only overworked doctors and nurses as company. His luck knows no boundaries—

A soft baritone stops his thoughts in its pessimistic tracks, a familiar voice speaking in low volumes that Hayama can only hear because there is nothing else making noise in their surroundings. 

“...aa-san wants to meet you, you know. Said you remind her of Otou-san, but I told her not to scare you off, and that my teachers are all off-limits. She's prepared Osechi for us as well - or rather, made more and forbade my younger brother from finishing it. So after you get better, we should go. I think you'll like my family. They'll likely rope you to do all the touristy things in Hiroshima though. They do it all the time for me - even though I grew up there. They’re just teasing me, I’m sure, but at least the food is good—”

Hayama just manages to crack a smile. The action hurts his lips slightly - they feel dry, but the hospital air always does that - but besides that, he feels better. An ache is still lingering in his bones and head, but he  _ is _ probably in a better state than while he was sick; the doctor and nurses (and Narumi) is who he’d thank anyway. Voice rasping from disuse, he says without opening his eyes "...’ve never been to Hiroshima before.” 

He chuckles when he hears the sound of a chair toppling close to his ear, but regrets the movement as the cool air tickles his throat and triggers a coughing fit.

"Takashi? You're awake! Ah, the doctor, I should call the doctor. Do you want water?" He hears the nervous ramble, and cracks his eyes open to witness the most nervous he has ever seen of Narumi, whose hands are fluttering anxiously around him as if unsure of what to do. He looks tired, Hayama notes, and wonders if the man has had enough sleep. Perhaps he had been taking care of him too much - the realization would have made him blush if he were not already a middle-aged man in his thirties, rather than a teenager.

Behind Narumi, the hospital room door slides open and a male nurse sticks his head him, looking concerned. Hayama is unable to discern any of the nurse's characteristics, but he recognizes the nurse's voice almost immediately. "Narumi-san, is everything alright? We heard the noise from over the nurses' station — ah, Hayama-sensei, are you finally awake? It's been a while, hasn't it? I'll call Ohno-sensei immediately, Narumi-san, please relax before you hurt yourself." 

Despite Hayama's dislike for hospitals, he relaxes as soon as he recognizes Aiba's voice. Narumi brought him to his usual hospital then - what a coincidence. Perhaps he referred to the hospital appointment card that is also in his wallet - Narumi is a bright man and thinks well under pressure despite his occasional panic. Ohno and Aiba, as well as one of the other nurses in the internal medicine department (A Ninomiya, the snarkiest nurse Hayama has ever met), he gets along well with; after all, he was also under their care when he had his relapse last winter. 

A cool hand clasps his, bringing Hayama's attention back to conscious reality. Narumi has finally righted his chair and is looking extremely relieved as he squeezes Hayama's hand, as if unsure that he is awake. The sight simply adds to the fuel that is Hayama's fondness for Narumi, as well as to his guilt. 

"I'm sorr—" 

"No. You're not allowed to apologize." Narumi interrupts him mid-sentence, and narrows his eyes threateningly, as if challenging Hayama to just  _ try _ . Hayama isn't foolish, he isn't going to. 

"What time and day is it?" He asks instead, and tries to repress the surge of nauseating guilt when Narumi raises his watch and answers,

"15 minutes to 7pm on the 30th of December. You've been out for a while." Narumi answers, his fingers lacing with Hayama's in a seamless motion. Hayama watches the motion with a detached thought, and hesitates to wonder how often their hands have been interlaced like that, in the last 24 hours. Often enough for his body to recognize the touch, he reckons. He looks up again, when Narumi asks unsurely, "you are with me this time, aren't you?"

"This time?"

"You've been really out of it. Sometimes you seemed to be awake but I think it was just the fever talking." Narumi chews on his bottom lip, and Hayama recognizes it as a sign that the man's head is currently full of thoughts. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Tilting his head, Hayama thinks, sluggishly, and is only able to come up with vague memories of hearing Narumi asking him about his health insurance card, and the clearest, most recent memory being of Narumi giving him dinner, and him being in Narumi's bed. He relays the information to Narumi, and watches silently as Narumi nods, slowly, as if having expected that answer. 

"Did I say… something strange?" Hayama asks after a moment of hesitation, and nearly sags in relief as Narumi shakes his head quickly. He had been concerned that he may have said upsetting things while delirious, but perhaps not this time. "That's a relief." 

The strained smile on Narumi's face seemed to disagree, but Hayama thinks he understands. The man has been worried - and hasn't been taking care of himself, if the growing beard isn't obvious enough. 

"I'm sorry for worrying you."

"I said you didn't have to apologize." Narumi groans, and leans forward to pat Hayama's hair. That action too, feels familiar. "But yes, I was worried. You were in a really bad state early this morning. I'm glad to see you awake and coherent. You're never going to do that again."

"Do what?" Fall sick? Hayama muses, and refrains from revealing the fact that he literally has a track record of falling sick every winter.

"This." Narumi gestures at Hayama's body. "I absolutely forbid it, as your boss."

"I'm entitled to sick leave. And this is technically winter vacation." Hayama reminds him gently. 

Narumi pouts. "Well, you're not allowed to fall sick  _ and _ not tell me."

"I'm technically your subordinate, Kouchou-sensei." Hayama replies in response, knowing the man can fill in the blanks on his own. 

"We're  _ friends _ . We're perfectly capable of maintaining a professional relationship anyway." Narumi pauses, and narrows his eyes. "Of which, why did you come to school yesterday with such a high fever? What if I wasn't there, and you passed out? Do you understand how dangerous that would have been?" 

"I took medication." Hayama reasons, and adds thoughtfully, "if I didn't come to school, then I'd likely have passed out in my home. And if you weren't in school, I would have called you." 

Narumi appears stunned at his logic (or some part of his logic), which Hayama considers a win on his part until Narumi replies, quite sardonically, "your medication wore off, and it doesn't answer the question as to why you came to school. What were you hoping to do, freeze your influenza to nonexistence?"

"It's just a cold." 

"And that is where I come in." A third voice enters the conversation, sounding amused as its source finally makes his presence known from where he is waiting outside the room. "Hayama-sensei. It's been a while. I'd say it's nice to see you, but not in this setting, I think."

"Ohno-sensei." Hayama nods in greeting, and offers the doctor a weak smile. 

"It's influenza." Ohno replies with less humor, cutting to the chase and only cracking a smile when Narumi lets out a sound that can only be described as a non-worded 'I told you so.' "Type A. Did you forget my instructions from when you were here last year?"

Hayama internally cringes at the way Narumi barely reacts to the information, fingers only tightening once round Hayama's, and is somehow less concerned about Ohno than he is of Narumi. Ohno's version of anger is a mildly-stern lecture. Narumi's lack of reaction means that this isn't the first time he has heard of it. "I informed you that you should visit the hospital the  _ minute _ you feel a cold coming on, because your pills makes you susceptible to the ailments. The exact minute, Hayama-sensei, not the third or fourth day."

Ohno's lectures can be rather intimidating, however. He doesn’t expect to have Narumi come to his defense, but Hayama feels a pang of betrayal when Narumi lets go off his hand, likely to give way to Ohno to properly examine him. 

"Narumi-san.” Aiba cheerfully peeks into the room and gestures for the man to follow him. “Ohno-sensei will be examining Hayama-sensei now, so why don’t you join me for dinner at the staff cafeteria? The food there is much better than what you can find at the stores here."

“Of course. I’ll see you later, Takashi. Be good for Ohno-sensei.” Narumi teases as he stands and stretches himself. Hayama lets out a confused sound - later? Visiting hours will end soon, no? - but chooses not speak up, knowing that it will produce no results, and only hold Narumi back from having his dinner. 

As soon as the door closes behind Narumi, Ohno fiddles with the buttons by the bed to help prop Hayama up. He doesn’t look at Hayama as he says, “Narumi-sensei seems like a very nice man.” 

Somehow, Hayama has been expecting that remark. He stiffles a cough into his elbow and nods. “He is.” 

“I’m glad to see that you’ve made a friend that cares for you so much, Takashi-kun.” Ohno says after several moments of silence. The change in his addressal is expected - Hayama has spilled much about his past to the doctor before, and he is not surprised that Ohno wanted the privacy. He likely wants to talk, and while Hayama thinks his concern is unnecessary, his reply is shy. 

“...He helps.”

Ohno nods. “Good. You need that. Does he know?” 

Hayama licks his lips at the question. “He knows some things.” 

“I see.” A man of little words, Hayama doesn’t expect Ohno to pry any further regarding the matter of Narumi. The doctor, however, takes a cursory glance at him, and looks back at his chart with only a raised eyebrow. After a moment, he says, “You’ve lost a fair bit of weight. Did you have a flare up that I should know about, or is it related to a separate issue?” 

Of course he would notice that. “Things happened at school, that’s all. My medication is working fine.” 

“If you ever need to speak to someone more capable in helping you, I have several friends that I could refer you to, Takashi-kun. I told you this last year as well.”

“I’m getting better, Ohno-sensei.”

“The offer is always open. And you don’t have to be in a low to speak to someone. Think about it. I’m glad to hear that you are feeling better, although…” Ohno tilts his head as he speaks at Hayama, “you look pretty rundown.” 

“I am sick, Ohno-sensei.” Hayama reminds him.

The man completely ignores him, nevertheless. “When was the last time you went on a holiday?” 

When he was still with his wife, perhaps. As in, before the fire incident, that is, and even then, he doesn’t actually recall  _ when _ exactly, said ‘holiday’ happened. Perhaps his honeymoon. He relays the answer to Ohno with only half a thought that he would not be pleased with the honest answer. 

“Don’t you think you’re overdue one? You don’t even have to leave the country - maybe take a few days off, leave Tokyo. Go back to Toyama — okay, maybe not Toyama,” he corrects after seeing the expression on Hayama’s face, “but somewhere pleasant. Call it doctor’s orders.” 

“You can’t  _ prescribe _ a holiday, Ohno-sensei.” 

“Oh yes I can. Now, let me ask Nino-chan to grab a dinner tray for you...” 

“ _ Ohno-sensei. _ ” 

***

“You - well, we - are going on a holiday.” Narumi says to Hayama as soon as he returns from dinner and sits himself far too comfortably in the seat next to Hayama’s bed. Hayama wordlessly gazes at him with wide eyes, unsure of where that idea came from. Narumi misunderstands his silence as agreement, and excitedly fishes his phone from his pocket to type vigorously. “Ohno-sensei said that you can be discharged tomorrow, and then you’ll have to rest for a day or so, of course, but after that, we do have some days left before the school term starts. I was planning on going back to Hiroshima to visit my mother and my younger brother for a bit, see my niece - you should come with.” 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your New Year’s celebration—” 

“Nonsense. You’re not intruding. I told you, didn’t I? Or were you still not awake then - that my mother wants to meet you, and has made Osechi for us. Ohno-sensei said you need a holiday, and I agree with him.” 

“When did Ohno-sensei tell you that?” Ohno had kept Hayama company until Narumi returned from dinner, but Hayama does not recall them exchanging any form of conversation during the entire duration of him being conscious. Narumi waves off his question, however, and instead purses his lips in a half-pout as he asks, 

“Did you already make plans for the holiday then? If you do, then of course it’s not a problem. But if you don’t, I really insist.”

Hayama’s fingers flex against the soft blanket. He doesn’t, of course. He never has plans for the holidays - he used to visit his ex-wife’s family when they were married, and he no longer speaks to his mother so the answer is fairly clear. “...I don’t.” 

“Then come with me.” Narumi rests his hand right above Hayama’s hand to stop his movements - he has noticed his anxiety - and squeezes gently. “My family is nice, I promise. They don’t bite. And you said you’ve never been to Hiroshima. We can go do all the touristy stuff, drop by Miyajima too, if you like oysters. I  _ love _ the oysters from Miyajima.” 

“...Are you going to use me as an excuse to go to Miyajima, just to eat oysters?” Hayama is unable to hide the small smile that comes to his face at the direction Narumi’s argument has gone, but appreciates how generous he is being with his invitation. Hiroshima does sound lovely. And so does Narumi’s company, actually. 

“Maybe. I think you’ll have no objections. It’ll be like an oyster date.” 

Hayama raises his eyebrows at the choice of words. “An oyster… date?” 

“Yep. You, me, and oysters. Maybe the deers in Miyajima too. Best oysters in Japan, hands down, and winter is when they’re in season. Man, I just had dinner and I’m already hungry just thinking about them…”

“Deers are herbivores.” Hayama points out mildly, more than used to Narumi’s tendency to go slightly off-tangent with his topics. 

“So Hiroshima it is, then. I’ll go get our tickets for the… 2nd? Yes, that sounds perfect.” Narumi says as cheerfully types something into his phone, the bright smile on his face making Hayama reluctant to say no to him. The situation does however, make him uncomfortable despite Narumi’s easygoingness. He has already inconvenienced Narumi so much in the last two days, and now he will be under Narumi and his family favour for the rest of winter break.

“Let me know how much I should pay you—” He starts, but is quickly cut off by a stubborn shake of Narumi’s head.

“You don’t have to. I’m inviting you. My mother is inviting you too, technically, so don’t worry about any cost, really.” 

“I  _ can _ afford to pay you back, Narumi-san.” 

Narumi raises an eyebrow as if to challenge Hayama. “And I can afford to pay for the both of us as well.”

Hayama levels him the flattest look he can manage - he has never been capable of being or looking 'angry', does not have the temper for it, really, but he has been repeatedly informed by Narumi that he can appear intimidating or disapproving at times. Of course, the look works better on people he has an authority over (i.e. students) and not at all for a man who Hayama is technically working for. Nevertheless, Narumi easily understands his feeling of discontentment and relays a small half-smile. "I'll let you pay for your ticket back, if it makes you feel better."

A partial win. Narumi is being generous. 

"It does." Hayama sags into his pillows. He'll also bring some omiyage then, as appropriate, "Thank you." 

"It's weird how you're thanking me for letting you pay, but sure." Narumi pats his hand once, teasingly, then raises his watch to look at the time. "It's rather late, isn't it? I haven't noticed the time, but then again, I did have a pretty late dinner..."

Hayama peeks at the small bedside clock and balks at time. "You should head home before it gets too late."

"Home?" Narumi repeats in a high pitch, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Who said about going home?" 

"It's half past 9." Hayama points out, frowning. "Didn't visiting hours end an hour ago?" 

Narumi lets out a soft 'ah' sound, as if he has forgotten to explain something important to Hayama and has just remembered, then sheepishly explains, "I got permission to stay here for the night. Aiba-san said he'll come by to set up a cot for me before the end of his shift." He winces when he looks at Hayama's face - and likely the look of disbelief and barely veiled horror - "Don't worry about it. I already went home while you were still asleep to get a change of clothes and things to read. Between you and me, I'm rather settled in this room." 

"I'm already in the hospital, you don't have to stay with me if you don't want to." 

"But what if I want to?" 

He freezes at Narumi's brazen reply, the man looking hardly bothered as he cracks open his book from where he has left off - using the book cover slip as a bookmark,  _ again  _ \- and makes himself comfortable in his armchair. It takes Hayama several seconds to realize that the armchair isn't a common sight either, in normal wards like the one he is in, which leads him to suspect that the nurses are clearly fond of Narumi, or Hayama himself. The former isn't unlikely; Narumi is more than charming, and handsome, and the latter... well, he did make friends with Aiba and Ninomiya the last time he was here. Nevertheless, he draws back his attention to the main situation at hand. 

"You w-want to?" He stutters slightly, wondering if he is back under a feverish delirium again (impossible, thanks to the needle stuck under his skin). "But..." 

Narumi licks his thumb and flicks the page of his book aside, before raising his eyes to look at Hayama expectantly. His gaze is unreadable, an expression that Hayama interprets as a cross between fondness and exasperation, and then something else. "Hey." He says, "being here isn't an inconvenience to me. But if my presence bothers you that much, I can leave." 

"That's..." Hayama falters. "...not the point." The point is that Narumi is being extremely (unusually? Or is this usual) stubborn in staying with him. It is not that Hayama minds his presence, but rather he is unused to someone wanting to stay with him for so long. There is a sense of vulnerability that he is unfamiliar with - sharing a room with someone who is willing to keep him company. There has been that one time when he wanted to ask Izumi to keep him company at the hospital as waking up alone in a hospital room is daunting; he refrained, knowing that such a request was more than selfish. 

"It's not complicated, Takashi. Do you really want me to leave?" comes the gentle prompt. 

Hayama bites his lip. Here he is, a divorcee in his mid-thirties, being asked (indirectly) if he wants company. One would think that the answer will be simple, but he has to swallow past a sudden lump in his throat as he wordlessly shakes his head, shy. 

Narumi nods firmly. "Then I'll be staying put right here. Isn't it nicer, to wake up with someone keeping you company when you're stuck in a hospital? And at the end of the year, no less." He adds almost teasingly, but somehow, Narumi's words strike a chord in Hayama, who quickly diverts his eyes to the blanket he is tightly clutching in his fists. Why is Narumi so kind to him, he doesn't understand. Usually, he is more than capable of hiding his brewing emotions, but it seems that today, perhaps because he is sick or perhaps because winter is when his feelings of loneliness are the most prominent. 

He doesn't want to get attached to Narumi. He doesn't. It won't spell good for anyone. 

But... it's okay to ask for help sometimes, right?

"Takashi?" Narumi suddenly asks, sounding alarmed as he rests his book, page down, on the free space near Hayama's feet and shifts closer. Hayama doesn't see what expression Narumi has on his face - he doesn't dare to look up either, knowing that the wetness he feels trickling down his chin isn't a figment of his imagination, or a result of a leaky ceiling. The accompanying burn of his eyes are an easy giveaway. He hurriedly wipes his eyes and looks in the other direction; he knows that if he looks at Narumi, he’ll find it harder to stop. His mattress dips slightly, and Narumi softly calls out to him, "Takashi, are you... did I say something wrong?" 

He shakes his head and refuses to look in Narumi’s direction even when an arm reaches around his shoulders and squeezes him lightly. 

“What’s going on? Are you feeling unwell?” Narumi’s other hand slips beneath his fringe to feel his forehead. His voice is close to Hayama’s ear; their position is intimate, the warmth of Narumi’s body seeping into Hayama’s side and offering a comfort he has been deprived of for years now. 

So kind. 

He covers his eyes with a hand, pressing hard as if that would stem the flow of tears. There are no words for him to say, or at least, no real way for him to say them without embarrassing himself any further, but somehow, Narumi knows, and the man instead kindly teases, 

“Hey. Are you really that touched by the idea of an oyster date? If I knew I would have invited you home earlier.” 

A wet chuckle bubbles out of him at Narumi’s words. Narumi squeezes him more tightly, as if in a side hug, at the sound, and continues, “There’s a lot of places we can go to. Like the Peace Park, which we definitely  _ have _ to go to, since you’ve never been there before. And then afterwards we can go eat Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki, because it always tastes better at home. Maybe drive over to see Shimanami Kaido - it was my favourite spot to see the sunset when I was living there. I think you’ll like it. We can ditch my family for that, they don’t need to know that I’m sentimental, and you’ll have me as a personal tour guide.” He stops to breathe, a characteristic that Hayama likes about Narumi, because he knows how to fill up silence in a way to make him comfortable, and never flinches away whenever Hayama’s ‘brokenness’ shows up through the cracks. 

“...and when we come back to Tokyo, you can invite me over to your apartment and we can unpack the rest of your belongings in your apartment.” Narumi says quietly, suddenly. Hayama’s mind goes blank at the words, his tear-stained and likely-pale face turning towards the man in shock. Narumi returns the look with an ever so small smile. It is as benevolent as a smile can be - like a metaphorical helping hand. “You can show me the large DVD collection that you say you have - I want to see them put out on a bookshelf, to prove that there are as many as you say there are.” 

“How do you—” Hayama stammers, and stops when Narumi raises a hand to stop him.

“Know? I did say you were out of it while you were delirious with that high fever.” Narumi’s face turns serious. “Do you know how terrified I was, in that moment, when you told me you haven’t unpacked. I thought… I thought you had plans to leave.”

Hayama hurriedly shakes his head, only wincing slightly when his head smarts at the motion. “I just haven’t had the courage to open it up.” He brings his knees closer to his body, “There are memories I don’t want to face yet. Just…” 

“Face them with me. It’s better with company, isn’t it? Makes the loneliness less prominent." Narumi grabs his hand, and Hayama tries not to stare. “My father passed away from cancer - and he left everyone in my family letters. I was just starting at work in Aomori then, and I left the letter unopened for months, because I didn't want to remember that he was gone. My brother came to visit me one day and well, he sat down with me, made me open it, then fed me alcohol to drown my tears. It helped."

"It's not the same. They're —," Hayama catches himself, voice thick, "she's alive." Or at least, some of them are. Yuzuko-chan…

"But she's not with you anymore. You can grief for someone's absence. You can grief for things that you feel should have happened but didn't. Well… I don't know what you are feeling, so I can’t say much, but I'm here, if that counts for anything." 

It does, Hayama wants to say, but finds himself unable to vocalize any words. Instead, he raises his hand to cover his eyes and the incoming wave of tears. He shakes his head when Narumi sighs (fondly?) and tries to pry his hand away from his face, so afraid of letting anyone,  _ especially _ not Narumi, see him like this, at his lowest, even though internally he knows that it is inevitable. “Please stop.” Hayama pleas, voice trembling.  _ Please stop _ , because he doesn’t know what he’ll do or say if Narumi continues to be this kind towards him. 

There is no benefit, no happiness, that waits those who offer him mercy from this misery he has shrouded himself in. 

“Talk to me.” Narumi presses softly, his voice close to Hayama’s ear and heavy hand resting on his head. The touch only adds to the overwhelming torrent of emotions that has been slowly building in him for ages, but how does he release them without making a fool of himself, and when did his resolve start to crack? He used to be so good at keeping himself together, but it’s  _ this season _ that always hurts more than the others. And… there is Narumi. 

It was easy to keep things together when he was alone. 

“I’m here. If you need anything, even if it’s a listening ear or just company, tell me. I…” Narumi stops, his voice suddenly sounding odd, as if he has to say something difficult and is struggling. It’s unusual to see him struggle with words - he always knows how to say the things that are hard to hear, hard to accept. Yet, this time… 

“I know you feel as though you don’t deserve anything, but—”

Hayama stiffens; to hear that coming from Narumi’s mouth leaves his body suddenly cold. He’s never told anyone that.

“—that’s not true, and I will do whatever it takes to convince you of that. If there’s anything you want that I can give you,  _ anything at all,  _ I want you to tell me, Takashi. Please.”

Hayama’s hands fall to his lap, but he keeps his eyes still tightly shut, face stained with smeared tear tracks as he forces out a single word, barely louder than a whisper. “Stay.” 

“Hmm?” 

The next time he says it, it is a little louder, but so is his heart, and all the feelings he is allowing himself to spill - for just this one time. “Stay,” he weeps, and holds tight to his blankets, as if they are going to flee immediately. “Stay with me.” 

He is suddenly pulled into a proper hug, arms around him and gently squeezing, his face pressing into a shoulder that Hayama figures would have smelled like Narumi’s usual soap and aftershave if he has the capacity to smell past his block nose (courtesy of his cold, and his crying), and a gentle rocking that only has his tears fall faster. His fingers grasp desperately at the sleeves of Narumi’s sweater - not to push Narumi’s arms away, but rather to keep them there. They’re the same size, but Hayama feels small at this very moment, as he repeatedly begs for Narumi to stay. 

“I’m here. I’m staying right here.” 

If Narumi’s voice cracks, Hayama doesn’t hear it over his own weeping.


	19. (18) N

Narumi misses Hiroshima, sometimes. He has lived in many places, experienced different cities, and as much as he likes Tokyo, Narumi has to admit that Hiroshima will always have a place in his heart. After all, it _is_ where he grew up in. And even though he uses the mainstream Japanese for work and daily living almost all of the time, there is something endearing about the Hiroshima dialect. Perhaps, because it reminds him of his family, and his family is something he considers especially private and important.

There isn’t a lot of things he considers as precious as his family. His work, for example, is important, but it doesn’t hold as much weight as it used to. Friendships too, are a different thing – he has friends from university and work that he occasionally meets up with for dinner, but they are all adults and naturally have their own careers and families to focus on. It’s unlike university days, when they had nothing much to worry about besides classes, or internships. But now...

Well, he understands. There are many things to think about, as a working adult.

And then there is Hayama.

_“Well, you see, he was here last year as well. We get a lot of patients too, but it’s hard to forget someone like him.”_ Nino (nurse, apparently childhood friends with Aiba) had vaguely explained over a cup of coffee. He was on break, and thought Narumi needed some caffeine in him. _“He was alone for the entire week he was here, including New Year’s. Aiba-san had a shift right after mine at the start of the year, so he’d tell you the same. It’s seemed rather rough – to be alone in a hospital, no visitors, no friends, no family. It’s not hard to tell either, that the loneliness was getting to him. That’s why the nurses doted on him. But it’s good to see that he has you now.”_

A sudden weight on his shoulder has him flinching slightly in his seat – perhaps he is thinking too hard and it’s visible on his face, Narumi thinks, panicking, as his eyes flicker to the man next to him. He relaxes at the sight he is met with: a mask on and scarf still wrapped snugly around his neck, Hayama’s eyes are closed, having nodded off. Their faces are rather close, but Narumi feels no feeling of awkwardness at their proximity, but rather an odd swell of fondness. Hayama’s book lies open on his lap, barely held in place by slack fingers. Wiggling himself into a more comfortable position for his sleeping companion, Narumi rescues the book before it can fall, then plucks the glasses off Hayama’s face.

He must still be a little worn out from a few days ago, and Narumi wouldn’t blame him. He debates dozing off as well - it is another 2 hours still to Hiroshima, and knowing his family, both of them would need most of their energy to get through to the night.

It has been hard to fall asleep recently, however, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he has had two nights where he was not attempting to sleep in his own bed. Besides thinking about everything else he usually thinks about (i.e. school), Narumi has found himself recently occupied with many thoughts revolving around the man currently asleep next to him. Most of them time he ends up annoyed at himself for being preoccupied by the thoughts of someone, but now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t feel bothered at being mentally preoccupied by Hayama. Someone has to think about him, after all, and Narumi doesn’t mind if said person is him.

...Like he said, it’s an odd feeling.

+++

A series of soft vibrations coming from his pants’ pocket awakens Narumi an undeterminable amount of time later – he must have dozed off too, somewhere between the second and third hour of the train ride. Hayama has shifted in his sleep and is no longer resting his weight on Narumi’s shoulder anymore – his head is instead pressed against the blinds of the window, and the new position spares Narumi the guilt of needing to accept the call from his mother in between the train carriages.

“Kaa-san?” He says immediately into the phone.

“Try again, she’s driving right now.” A deeper voice replies to him, the response earning an eyeroll from Narumi. “Nii-san, you haven’t called me in ages.”

“Well, I’ve been calling Kaa-san, obviously. She tells me enough about you and Kyouka-chan anyway, Shota.” Narumi shoots back at his younger brother while peeking at his watch. “Heading to the station already? Is it not too early? We’ll only reach the station in an hour.”

“We know, but Kaa-san decided that it would be a good time to buy more okashi. I told her that of all people, you don’t need to be fed _that_ well, but she insisted. Which brings the question – tsubuan, koshi-an, or custard?”

“Tsubuan.” Narumi replies immediately, knowing exactly what Shota is referring to.

“And for your friend?”

“Setouchi lemon.”

“That wasn’t even in the list of choices I gave you.” His brother responds dryly.

“You guys are getting fried momiji manju, aren’t you? From the corner shop in the park nearby the parking lot that’s closest to the station? They’ll have lemon. If not, then tsubuan.”

“For someone who hasn’t lived in Hiroshima for over a decade, you have a surprisingly good memory of the city. Lemon and tsubuan it is, then.” There is a quiet chatter in the background, and he manages to catch the playful shriek of a child. “Kyouka-chan says hello to Ryosuke-jiichan.”

Narumi laughs. “I can hear her. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“About two years since you’ve last visited. She’s all grown up now. Anyway, I was just calling to ask about the food – we can catch up once you’re actually here. We’ll see you in an hour.” He hangs up immediately after, leaving Narumi staring at his phone in mild exasperation at the rather sudden end to the conversation. _Shota, really_, he sighs internally, and puts away his phone before heading back to his seat.

As soon as he settles down, he hears a, “Work call?”

He nearly jumps in his seat at the quiet question, eyes whirling to look at Hayama. He had though that the man was still asleep, but Hayama’s eyes are half-open, hidden beneath his fringe, his gaze still appearing rather glazed from drowsiness. Something in Narumi’s chest clenches at the appearance, and he smiles before shaking his head. “Not work, of course. It was my brother. Did I wake you?”

Hayama shakes his head once at the question. “Was awake before you came back. I was wondering where you went to.” He reaches for his glasses sitting on the tray in front of him. Scrubbing his eyes of his sleepiness, Hayama asks, “Is everything okay?”

Narumi hears the unsureness in Hayama’s question, and nods reassuringly. “All okay. They were asking about what flavor of fried momiji manjuu we wanted. They’re taking Kyouka to the park nearby to play for a bit. Look like the entire family is going to be there to welcome you.”

“Fried…?”

“Momiji manjuu.” Narumi finishes for him, “It’s a local specialty. Think a normal manjuu, but on a stick, and deep fried.”

Nodding, Hayama accepts his best attempt at a description. “And Kyouka is your niece, right?”

“Yep. She’s five now, and thankfully takes after her mother instead of Shota.”

Hayama’s eyes crinkle at the edges – despite the mask he wears, Narumi knows that the crinkling means that he is smiling widely from the comment. “Is she pretty, or are you just calling your brother less handsome than you are?”

Grinning, Narumi cheekily answers, “Both.”

“So, your mother lives with Shota and his wife, then?” Hayama asks after a short pause, tone quiet. The question has Narumi wincing – not because he is aware of Hayama’s own past with his own mother and divorced wife, but because Narumi had been that close into forgetting to explain an important detail.

“Ah, actually, no – Shota’s wife passed away during giving birth to Kyouka.”

“…I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, it’s unfortunate. She was a really sweet person, they started dating in high school and everything. Shota was distraught when it happened, but he had to take care of a newborn too so…” He can vaguely remember that day – Narumi received the call in the late evening, just after he clocked out of work, and within the next hour was on the last train from Tokyo to Hiroshima. It was a strange evening, trying to figure out where to place his emotions between having lost his sister-in-law but also gaining a niece.

“It’s been a few years now though, and Shota didn’t want to disguise the fact that her mother passed away giving birth to Kyouka, so it’s not some sordid secret of that sort. Life can be rather shitty like that.” Narumi runs his fingers through his hair. Now that he thinks about it, his family has had drawn a lot of dubious cards, after losing his father and then his sister-in-law. “Sometimes I think about how lucky we still are, as a family, to be this close, but it’s probably because we lost members here and there.”

“You love your family a lot.” Hayama comments with a hint of amusement. “Ryosuke-san?”

“Hm?” The address throws Narumi off a slight loop – Hayama’s probably the only person in the world who addresses him by his first name with a -san attached to it.

“Do you know that you slip into a dialect whenever you talk about them?” Hayama asks as he open his can of now-room temperature coffee. When he lowers his mask to take a sip, his lips are curled in a smile that widens at the sight of Narumi looking completely confused. “A habit you’re not aware of, I see. Is it the Hiroshima dialect?”

If it isn’t Hayama that Narumi is talking to, Narumi would have thought that his conversation partner is hearing things. After all, Narumi hasn’t slipped into the Hiroshima dialect with a non-family member since he _left_ Hiroshima over a decade over ago. Even with Satoko, he had always adopted the generic, Kanto dialect. He nods dumbfoundedly, remembering that Hayama is waiting for an answer. “Yeah.”

“Ryosuke-san?”

“Yeah?”

Hayama loosens his scarf from around his neck, and cheekily comments, “It’s cute. You using the dialect. You should use it more often.” 

++

His mother absolutely adores Hayama, and it’s almost amusing to watch her fawn over the quiet man to offer him hot tea and Ozoni if not for the fact that she isn’t offering _Narumi_ the same hospitality. When Narumi points that out (and without a pout, because he is an _adult_), she barely blinks as she reminds him that he has two functioning hands, knows his way around the house, and was not sick less than three days ago.

Narumi naturally accedes to that.

“We have an entire pot of Ozoni if you want more, Hayama-sensei. Ryo-chan didn’t mention you’re a skinny thing. I’m disappointed he didn’t feed you more.” Yoko raises her voice at the end of the sentence, as if Narumi couldn’t already hear her from the kitchen that is less than two metres away from the kotatsu. Sitting opposite to her, Hayama shakes his head, his posture relaxed, but Narumi knows better than to assume that Hayama has already made himself comfortable in his childhood home.

“Ryosuke-san does his best to force me out for dinner after work sometimes, Yoko-san.”

Hayama’s expression is too airy, too polite and shielded. He’s _shy_, and frankly speaking… Narumi finds that adorable.

“Exactly, Kaa-chan. I do try to feed him, you know. And cut him some slack, he’s just left the hospital a few days ago.” Narumi slips right next to Hayama at the kotatsu with his own freshly procured bowl of Ozoni. The moment their knees touch beneath the kotatsu futon, Narumi feels a very quiet sigh leave Hayama, and he glances over at the man discreetly.

_Tired?_

Hayama’s eyes meet his momentarily, and the man shakes his head once, reading his concern in an instant.

“It’s exactly why he should eat more, get his strength up— how long will you both be staying here again?”

“School starts on the 6th, so we were planning on catching the shinaksen on the morning of the 5th.” Narumi answers around his mochi. “Kaa-chan, this Ozoni is delicious.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Ryo-chan.” His mother snaps at him in amusement. “You’re nearly 38. Don’t tell me you eat like even at work.”

“No, of course no—”

“He does.” Hayama adds drily from next to him, before looking innocuously away to the far end of the living room, where Kyouka is drawing pictures on a stack of papers – the back side of her father’s unimportant reports.

Narumi scrunches his face up at Hayama’s unnecessary comment. “Only sometimes.”

“Always. The teachers are just too polite to say anything.”

“You don’t point it out to me either.”

“Well,” Hayama readjusts his glasses with a finger, “I always thought it’s rather cute.”

“Takas—”

“Well now, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard a banter like that one.” Yoko slips in smoothly, hiding a smile behind her hand. “Let me just stop you two before Kyouka thinks the two of you are fighting.”

As if on cue, the five-year-old perks up at her name being spoken. She has grown up a lot from when Narumi last met her, to the point of refusing to be carried when he offered. Kyouka patters over several moments later, sidling up into her grandmother’s side while looking up at Hayama curiously. Hayama tilts his head in response, his expression turning gentle and wistful.

Narumi wonders if Hayama ever wanted kids while he was with his ex-wife.

“Takashi-niisan?” Kyouka says after a few seconds of silence. When Hayama hums, she asks, “Do you like Jii-chan?”

Hayama blinks at the question, eyebrows furrowing together with a look of a person who isn’t sure of the direction of a conversation. “…Yes, I do.”

“Does that mean you’re his lover?”

Narumi nearly spits out his miso soup in shock at the question. Next to him, Hayama has gone completely still, face frozen in an expression of comical shock if not for the rapidly pinking cheeks. If Narumi hadn’t been sure that Hayama’s fever had cleared from his system two days ago, he would have been concerned that it has come back in this very moment. “Kyouka! What are you s-saying—?”

“But Takashi-niisan said that he likes Jii-chan, no?”

_Well yes, _but that _logic_—

“Jiichan, do you like Takashi-niisan as well?”

Narumi knows where the conversation is leading too, and he is _not_ ready to explain to a five-year-old that the concept of ‘liking’ someone is more of a spectrum rather than equating automatically to ‘loving’ someone. Of course, the Japanese language is more complicated like that but—

“Of course, I like Takashi—”

“Who likes who now?” As if the fates are out to get Narumi today, his younger brother walks in to the room just as Narumi finishes the first part of his sentence.

“Shota-kun, what vocabulary have you been teaching Kyouka?!” Narumi sputters hastily. This _household_—

“Me? I’m the one working on the weekdays. You should be asking Kaa-chan! And was I walking into a confession or did you forget to tell me something? Maybe I shouldn’t have set up the extra futon in your room? The two of you wouldn’t do anything while Kyouka’s around, would you?”

Narumi inhales deeply, and pointedly picks up his chopsticks with what he hopes, is more ferocity than what he is capable of. He directs the point at Hayama’s own neglected pair, and grumbles, “eat your Ozoni. As soon as we’re done, we’re going to leave this conniving house and head to the peace park before it gets too dark.”

His mother appears (thankfully) unfazed at the harsh description, and merely reminds them to not be late for dinner as she shuffles onto the kitchen. “Will you be going to Miyajima?”

“Tomorrow.” Narumi replies sullenly as he stabs semi-angrily at one of the pieces of floating fishcakes. _Sly family. Conniving family. Out-to-embarrass-him family—_

“Of course he’d go to Miyajima, Kaa-san.” Shota pipes up cheerfully as he switches on the television and pulls Kyouka onto his lap. “He used to take all his dates to Miyajima. You’d think he’s dating the oysters there.”

Next to Narumi, Hayama chokes slightly at Shota’s words.

++

The winter sun is setting along the flat expanse of the Hiroshima Peace Park as Narumi approaches one of the benches along the river bank opposite the Atomic Bomb Dome. His hands are warmed by the two paper cups of Amazake he is holding, but the wind bites Narumi’s face as he stops a few metres away from the lone figure sitting down.

Hayama’s eyes are half-open, seemingly entirely unbothered by the rays of sunlight casting on his face. He has lowered his mask for the time being, and his exhales bring up white puffs of air. It’s such a normal, typical scene; yet Narumi finds himself immobile as he takes in Hayama’s appearance, a strange emotion – not unfamiliar to Narumi – reappearing in his chest and settling in his stomach like a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

He doesn’t know where the feeling comes from – perhaps it has always existed, simmering and stewing in the bottom of the proverbial memory ‘storage’ in Narumi’s mind that he has labelled ‘Hayama Takashi’. Perhaps it is his age, or his (and Hayama’s maturity) that makes Narumi unawares of the slow evolution of what they are, and what they have between them. They are not disillusioned by love: Hayama has been married, then divorced. Narumi has been in love, romantically involved, nearly settled into what could have been a married life if not for unexpected changes. Perhaps that’s why Narumi has completely missed what _this _emotion meant.

He slips into the space next to Hayama and offers a cup to the man. “Here. Hope you didn’t get too cold waiting for me. Hiroshima’s colder than Tokyo.”

“Not as cold as Toyama, I think. Thank you.

Narumi lets out an enquiring hum when Hayama sighs softly. “What’s up?”

“It’s nice here.” Hayama explains, and Narumi agrees. Of course, his opinion is rather biased, given that Hiroshima is where he grew up, but it _is_ nice. The city life is slower, less rushed than what one would find in Tokyo, and now that he thinks about it, this is probably an environment that is more familiar to Hayama. Not too crowded, calm (especially in this park), absent of towering sky scrappers and the honking of cars. Narumi’s most vivid memory of Hiroshima is the sound of the street trams, in fact.

“You’re not allowed to move here.” Narumi blurts out before he even realizes. _Not without me_, he adds mentally, but his cheeks are already flushing from embarrassment at the slip of his tongue.

His remark earns a chuckle from Hayama, however. “I hadn’t thought of doing so, I promise. Although now that you mention it…”

“I will refuse to sign the HR papers.”

“Isn’t that some form of power play?” Hayama points out teasingly, and Narumi pouts. “Anyway, I’m just thinking that Hiroshima seems like a lovely place. It reminds me too much of Toyama for me to want to move here, but thank you for not wanting me to move out of Tokyo.”

“Of course. I’d want you to stay.”

It’s almost painful how much he means it, in fact. He means it more than when he promised Satoko that he will marry her – the only question now is if this is really love he is feeling.

‘Love’ has become so vague as he grows older. Love used to be a car crash of physical attraction and emotional dependency. That hasn’t disappeared – Hayama _is _attractive, and more than half the student body has made it clear that it is so, and Narumi isn’t blind, nor that close-minded. His high school and university days were a strange blur of exploration and learning, and if there is any criterion as to what he determines as a proof of attraction, it is likely only having the desire to _be_ with someone, more so than he wants to be with anyone else.

He doesn’t know if what he wants with Hayama, is what he wants with love, but Narumi knows he would be foolish if he didn’t find out. 


	20. (19) H

At 6am on the 4th of January, Hayama finds himself in the passenger seat of a thankfully heated car, clutching two canisters – one purple, one red - as Narumi parks the car into a spot just before the barrier that separates the parking area of the Itoyama Park from a steep cliff drop. The display on the car dashboard shows that the outside temperature is a crisp 2 degrees – an improvement from the minus 5 degrees it had been when they left Narumi’s mother’s house about an hour and a half ago. Besides them, the parking lot is as empty as wind.

Narumi sets the car to park and unbuckles his seatbelt; he has been awfully quiet since they left this morning. After waking Hayama two hours ago, Narumi has said nothing else after handing him said canisters and a cooler bag from the kitchen counter. Now that they have stopped moving and have apparently reached their destination, Narumi finally sighs, and brings the cooler bag from the back seat onto his lap.

Hayama is unable to hide his surprise when he is handed a mug.

“Purple should be coffee, and red corn soup.” Narumi explains while digging his hand into the bag. “Ah, here’s the second cup. Can you pass me the coffee?”

He does so silently, and watches as Narumi uncaps the purple canister, stick his nose in to sniff at the steam that wafts from the contents. “Mm, Kaa-chan hasn’t forgotten at all. Somehow that makes me happy.”

“…Excuse me?” Hayama can’t help but feel as though he is missing a fair bit of information. Before them, the pink colour of the sky begins to spread further across the sky.

Instead of answering his question, however, Narumi merely raises the flask in his hand and offers, “Coffee?”

Hayama wordlessly brings his mug closer to the man, then mumbles a quiet thank you.

“My dad used to bring me here every vacation when I was growing up. The last time I came up here with someone was nearly 20 years ago, during my third year of high school. Just me and him. Shota refused to get out of bed.” Narumi says a few minutes later. “After my father passed away, it took me several years to bring myself to come here alone, but it was worth it. The view of the sunrise has never changed since I was a kid. Kaa-chan usually packs us breakfast the night before.”

He fishes out a tupperware box and removes the lid to reveal a four individually wrapped onigiri and several pieces of karaage stuffed in a separate compartment. A small smile plays on his lips, and Hayama is unable to draw his eyes away from Narumi’s face – he’s not sure if he has ever seen a look of such tender melancholy on Narumi before. Hayama remembers vaguely of Narumi talking about his father while Hayama was sick, but everything else, is a blur.

“You miss him.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I wish he was still around, so that I could get his advice.”

“Advice about what?”

“Anything and everything, I suppose.” Narumi sighs again. “The sunrise is always so beautiful.”

Hayama hums his agreement. He would have carried on the conversation if not Narumi appearing to be in a rather poignant mood. They share the sunrise in silence, hands occasionally brushing against each other’s as Narumi hands him an onigiri, and sequential pieces of karaage.

It’s the simplest breakfast – Shio-musubi onigiri and cold karaage with hot coffee and corn soup – but it tastes delicious.

“Takashi? Can I ask you a personal question?”

Hayama nearly snorts at the strange question – Narumi, of all people, asking for permission to ask about something private. “I think we’ve crossed that line long ago, Ryosuke-san.”

“It may be a bit more private than what you’re comfortable with, I wouldn’t know.” Narumi reasons, but acquiesces with a shrug. “I was just wondering why you never talk about your family, that’s all.”

He was wondering when this day would come, yet now that he has been asked, Hayama finds that it isn’t as hard to talk about, compared to if it had been, for example, Izumi, or anyone else to ask him so. It’s just Narumi, of course. The reason is always because it’s Narumi, and no one else but him. Hayama shrugs, and his answer is as detached as it always is.

“That’s because there’s not much to talk about. I’m not in talking terms with my mother, not after the incident with the burning house. My father left my mother before I turned five. I don’t remember what he looks like, but my mother had to force him to leave me something to remember him by – I imagine if she didn’t, he would have been happy to have just left us alone without anything.”

One might feel anger or resentment towards a non-existent father, but Hayama’s detachment is not a faked emotion. In the last three decades, the paternal concept has always been absent to him, which is likely why he has never thought of wanting children, when married – it’s hard to imagine himself as a father figure when he never had a good role model for one. His mother on the other hand, he loves, but it will take more time and more courage before he dares to reach out to her. All he is left with is emptiness where there should be family.

“That sounds… rough.” Narumi sounds stunned, with an inflection of apology that Hayama waves off. He is not looking for pity. It has been hard of course, coming to terms with it, but now that he has Narumi, it seems easier to make peace with his circumstances. Now, his heart only occasionally aches when he is offered kindness; like Narumi’s mother, acting like a mother would to someone who she only knows via her son, or Kyouka, who doesn’t care for who he is except that he is Narumi’s friend. It seems so simple, but truly, is not.

“It’s what it is. As you’ve said, life can be shitty like that. I prefer not to dwell in it.”

“Of course.” Just like that, Narumi’s tone brightens as he collects Hayama’s dirtied mug and his own into the bag. He returns the bag to the backseat, and hums thoughtfully as he adds, “you have your movies and that mysterious DVD collection that I’ve never seen before to occupy you.”

Hayama’s mouth twitches into a smile, and he relaxes into his seat. “You have your pie and books which I’m sure will make me fall asleep if I tried reading more than a chapter.”

Narumi pouts, and Hayama’s mind automatically thinks, _cute_. For such an attractive man, Narumi can act like a child sometimes.

“Harsh.”

“Well, you implied my DVD collection was non-existent.”

“But I’ve never seen it.” Such straightforward logic – Narumi logic.

Hayama rolls his eyes. “And you will soon.”

…

Silence. Hayama looks away from the scenery when no reply comes from Narumi, and is taken aback when he is suddenly faced with Narumi’s intent gaze – a stare, that is strangely locked to his face.

He raises a hand to his hair. Does he have something on his face?

“Ryosuke-san? Is something—” He stops mid-sentence when Narumi’s hand shoots out to grab his raised hand. He grabs Hayama’s wrist, but Narumi does not stop there. To Hayama’s surprise, Narumi twines their fingers together as he pulls it back down to rest on Hayama’s thigh. Hayama traces the action with his eyes.

“...Do you mind if I do something? I... want to test out a theory.” Narumi slowly asks, hesitation obvious in his voice and eyebrows furrowing together as though deep in thought. Hayama cocks his head in agreement but also in confusion, Narumi having been very vague with what he means by ‘theory’. He doesn’t mind – again, when does he ever mind what Narumi does? - and lets out a questioning sound as Narumi remains still in his seat, his dark gaze still very, intensely focused on Hayama’s face.

“Ryosuke-san...?” Hayama asks once again, softly and slightly concerned, but his following words die in his throat when a smooth hand cups his cheek, guiding his face forward slightly as Narumi leans towards him.

His eyes are wide open when warm lips meet his own cold ones. Their breaths mingle in the barely existing space between their faces, the moist air condensing into a wispy fog, and time stills. The kiss is a chaste one, barely there, a timid, testing taste of what could be, and within seconds, it ends. Narumi’s face is a deep red when he pulls away, eyes half-open and glassiness replacing with a horror-filled realization that makes Hayama, surprisingly, want to laugh.

He understands now. Narumi’s ‘theory’.

“I- that was rude of me, Takashi, I’m sorry-”

Hayama isn’t, however. And he moves before his mind can shriek to him that he’s supposed to have given up on love, that he can _never_ be happy ever again, that he should not try. His fingers twine into Narumi’s hair and he angles his head sideways ever so slightly to let their lips slot in properly. Perhaps later, he will deal with the ensuing panic attack that he associates with his ever-present anxiety. Perhaps later, he will regret giving into... to _this_.

But for now, his heart beats rapidly in his chest and his body warms from more than just the sun rays on his – their – faces. Narumi’s lips soften after their preliminary shock of contact, and unsure hands grip settle on his shoulders, tightening as their lips part, then meet again once more in the next second, slightly deeper, only showing a hint of the remnant of shyness. They’ve been deprived of this: not simply just of physical contact, but of, dare Hayama think it, love, and it shows.

They stop eventually – reality sets in just as a car drives by behind them, turning into the parking lot, and their lips part. Only their lips, however; their foreheads remain connected, their breaths catching just _a little_, and Hayama is deeply aware that his cheeks are red.

The euphoria disappears too quickly. Narumi looks almost dazed with joy, and as much as Hayama wants to feel the same, dread taking over any form of satisfaction Hayama may have derived from being able to put such an emotion on Narumi’s face.

“I... I-” He stutters. _I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know if I should be doing this_, is what Hayama wants to say, but he stops as Narumi holds his hand and squeezes, his eyes bright with hope and a warm fondness that Hayama has grown familiar with in the last few months. Is that what he has been feeling, Hayama wonders? Had he forgotten what love felt like, to have not realized what was happening, to not have taken the measures to avoid all of this happening.

“I like you, Takashi. I really, really do.” Narumi breathes out, sounding almost in awe of his own confession. “And I’d really, like to date you.”

Around them, all ambient noises seem to disappear into a quiet ringing sound that Hayama cannot shake off. “Ryosuke-san.” He starts, mouth dry. There’s only one way to respond to Narumi’s confession, and he says quietly, and in full honesty, “I-I can’t make you happy.”

The glow of Narumi’s happiness seems to melt off his face, smile slipping into a frown. His hands hold fast onto Hayama’s, grip tightening as if afraid that Hayama would leave. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve only brought misery to anyone who has ever loved me, to anyone who I’ve ever loved. I... I can’t do that to you.” He ducks his head, unable to hold Narumi’s gaze any longer. He used to be braver than this, years ago, maybe, but he is no longer that person. “I told you about what happened with my ex-wife. But there’s more to that, she’s not the only one I’ve hurt--”

“I know.” Narumi interrupts, head bending down to peer at Hayama’s face with the most heartbreakingly tender expression. Hayama wonders what unfortunate girl chose to end her engagement with Narumi. “You’ve mentioned an Izumi before.”

Hayama freezes and feels the blood drain from his face in shock. Narumi cups his cheeks in response, guiding them up and nodding slowly as if having confirmed something. “You were apologizing to her in your sleep, when you had that fever. It wasn’t hard to guess, you know.”

“Ryosuke-san.” Hayama starts, and immediately closes his mouth when Narumi shakes his head.

“I’m not looking for an explanation. Your past is your past. It makes you, you. But I won’t let your past interfere with what we can have.”

His eyes are hot; Hayama wants to close them, but something in Narumi’s gaze compels him not to.

“...Is it that important to you, my happiness?”

“Yes.” It’s so important to him that Hayama would willingly sacrifice _this_ to save Narumi from potential ruin.

“Then let me be with you, and that will be make me happy.”

“But—”

Narumi presses their lips together slowly, and the gentle kiss silences Hayama instantly. When they part, Narumi’s gaze is painfully soft, with only the barest hint of his exasperated smile peeking from the corner of his lips. “You spend too much of your time worrying about making others happy.” Narumi remarks matter-of-factly. “And you make yourself miserable, worrying about it all the time. Why don’t you let me make _you_ happy, for once?”

“I…” Hayama blinks away the tears. His lips are still warm from the contact, and Narumi has an iron grip on him. “I’m afraid.” He confesses.

“We can take it slow.”

“I haven’t told you about what I did.” And Narumi deserves a clearer explanation, none of that secretive vagueness that Hayama offered to Izumi long ago. Hayama knows better now; that hiding the truth will only hurt them, regardless of how painful the truth might sound at first. But he has refrained from telling Narumi nevertheless, because it means something now, to open up to somebody, to anyone. “I used her. I helped her when she was my student – she was being bullied by her peers, by the P.E. teacher in my old school; I took her into the drama club I was in charge of. I knew she was infatuated with me, and she knew I was broken. She wanted to try to fix me and I let her.”

“Takashi, you know you don’t have to tell me this.”

He doesn’t, but he wants to. His throat is dry from how much he is talking in a single breath, and reaches out to cling onto Narumi’s forearms. When he speaks, his voice is tight from the fruitless effort to stay calm, but the frequent stammers must give away his growing panic. “Listen to me. I used her. I turned her into an emotional crutch, and by the time I realized what I was doing, I knew that whatever I did would hurt her, and I chose to move to Tokyo to try to fix whatever I had left with my wife. I didn’t even say goodbye to her. I don’t know how she is, I don’t know if she’s okay. I cared for her too, and even then, I was ruthless enough to step on her feelings. I haven’t figured out how to live with that – and if,” his voice breaks, chest suddenly heaving, “_if_ I hurt you too, I… I…”

Narumi’s hand cups the back of his head; with a single push, he guides Hayama to press his forehead against Narumi’s warm chest, the contact sending him into sharp gasps of air as the embrace grounds him as it grounded him in the hospital. The angle is just a bit awkward, and each breath he takes is a noisy mixture of noisy panting and barely repressed whimpers, but the regular lub-dub of Narumi’s heartbeat fills his hearing. Narumi strokes his back slowly – there is something to be said about how easily the man deals with Hayama’s panic attacks. 

“Breathe.” Narumi instructs soothingly. Nodding blindly, Hayama inhales deeply and holds in the air for several seconds, then releases it in a stuttering huff. He knows how to deal with panic attacks too: from experience, from learning it in books to help others. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Hayama murmurs into the fabric of Narumi’s sweater. “I don’t want to use you as a crutch.”

“If you break a leg, you need a crutch to support you until it gets better. If you don’t use one, if you continue to walk on a broken leg, you’ll just end up hurting yourself more.”

Strained laughter bubble from between Hayama’s lips. Narumi and his _ridiculously logical _metaphors. “Your _metaphors_, Ryosuke—"

“I’m giving you permission to use me. You’ve made me feel more than I thought I deserve in the last year. Aren’t I allowed to do the same for you? We have nothing to lose over this.” Narumi weaves their fingers together. Although he phrases it as a question, the determination and surety of his words alerts Hayama that the man has quite convinced himself that this is the only direction he, they, will take from now on. “Date me, Takashi.”

Hayama laughs at the last bit and reaches out to swat Narumi’s shoulder. He sits up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. Although there hasn’t been an obvious conclusion, no confirmation that he has something wrong or right in his past, Narumi’s nonchalance does not bring Hayama any anxiety or fears. He only feels lighter as he scrubs his cheeks, and snaps with no heat, “You can’t _demand_ that.”

His words fail to deter Narumi from reaching out to grab his chin again, _insatiable_, and sneaks another series of chaste kisses between them.

“Watch me,” Narumi murmurs between them, and Hayama nearly laughs again at how voracious Narumi is being. They’ll have to stop soon – they’re setting a terrible example for their students if they’re acting like this (even if they are, technically, on holiday and no one is here to see them) and Hayama should probably stop Narumi, but he doesn’t. “Date me. I like you.”

“You’ve said that three times now.”

Narumi raises an eyebrow. “Do you want me to say it again?”

Hayama shakes his head, and leans in to bravely press his lips against the corner of Narumi’s mouth. A small one, rather like a symbol of acceptance – and watches with a great deal of satisfaction as Narumi reddens at the action, back straightening and chest puffing in ecstatic pride.

“You look like a cat that got the cream.” Hayama remarks offhandedly. “Maybe you’ll want to tone it down before your _niece_ figures out that we’re dating.”

Narumi snorts. “I think she’s already convinced that we are.”

“…Hey, Ryosuke-san. You know, I’ve never dated a man before.”

“Yeah? I figured.” He doesn’t even sound surprised, but when Hayama spots him hiding a sly smile behind a hand, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Have _you_?” He asks incredulously.

Narumi bats his eyelashes innocently, and taps at his left ear with a single finger. Hayama’s eyes focuses on the closed-up piercing that he has always noticed for, but never commented on. “You could say that I had a very… adventurous adolescence, Takashi. In any case… well, we’re figure something out.” He winks.

Hayama’s throat goes dry. Looking away, Hayama presses his lips together, and pretends that it is not suddenly his heart beating so loudly in his chest.


	21. (20) H

_End. _

“Good work today.”

A can of cold beer is handed to him, which Hayama rest on the floor next to his knee almost immediately after he accepts it from Narumi with a soft note of thanks. His right hand hovers just before the rows of DVDs, finally unpacked and placed into his previously unused shelf less than half an hour ago.

He wasn’t the one to set them in the shelves, of course. The order is wrong, sorted based on alphabet rather than year and origin of production, as Hayama usually prefers, but he doesn’t really care.

(Or well, he will, but for now, he want to revel in how light he feels from something as simple as seeing his belongings unpacked and his shelf filled with DVD boxes he hasn’t seen in ages. When he sees a familiar title, his fingers instinctively gravitate towards the title, his fingers trembling as they lightly brush the spine.

It’s like seeing an old friend again. All of his movies hold memories – from when he bought them, to all the times he watched them with and without company – but it is only now that he can face them and smile.

A hand falls on his shoulder – a warm weight as Narumi leans down to look at where Hayama is staring at. “Wanna watch it?” Narumi asks kindly.

“… You’ll watch it with me?” He’ll likely end up reading his book, Hayama thinks, but that’s not something he objects to either. It’s the company he is asking for.

“That’s possibly the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked.” Narumi replies in fake disbelief, but softens his words with a gentle brush of Hayama’s hair. He reaches down to press his lips against Hayama’s temple as if it’s the most natural thing to do, and Hayama cracks a smile, tilting his head ever so slightly in Narumi’s direction.

“I’ll set up the DVD player.”


End file.
